


Will of Fire

by jiemae



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Romance, Self-Insert, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-05-10 18:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 111,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5595655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jiemae/pseuds/jiemae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Great souls will have a burning fire; feeble ones have only wishes to make one."</p><p>A woman of peace, a girl that would never and could never fit into the world of shinobi, just took her first step inside of it—and they never stood a chance in keeping her from doing it.  </p><p>She started off hopeless—a crybaby, painfully sensitive to both words and being touched—and it did not get much better from there. Having grown up feeling much like a failure, Miho's only goal in life was to continue her efforts in music and perhaps try and impress her father with the first mission she'd ever been allowed to accept. Admittedly, it could have gone a bit better. OC!SI-as-Mito's-Twin.</p><p>(The AO3 mirror to the same story on fanfiction.net//Faster updates there!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Evanesce

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost off of FanFiction.net.
> 
> Image is a commission I asked of luciasatalina (on tumblr)

**Ｗ** **ｉｌｌ ｏｆ Ｆｉｒｅ**

 _ **Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ** _ _**1** _

_The moment she died, she forgot most of what she had lived._

_Yet those lost memories liked to come back._

_She continued to dream._

**Evanesce**

"Girls!"

She cringed immediately, reflexively.

Sometimes it felt like her name didn't matter in the long run and that isn't something she ever expected to really care much about. Their entire lives, they had a simple, single nickname and she _abhorred_ it.

'The girls'.

As if they were merely one single entity that just so happened to take on two identical forms.

For example, even if only one of the two had been involved in a given discussion, they would still be counted for one. Sure, it didn't _really_ bother her to the point of throwing an immature fit, but when your sister is perfect, then well, it gets hard to live up to the expectations that get tossed around so haplessly.

There was only one good facet about it, however, and it was in the fact that they never had to face anything alone. They were just as united as the title given to them forced them to be. Albeit, there wasn't any resentment towards each other, and she didn't blame her inaccuracies on her sister who happened to be naturally inclined to all things their parents wanted to entrust to them.

Then again, Miho couldn't help but describe their relationship as a strange one.

Always being known as one person tends to make you _feel_ that way.

Most days Mito wasn't even her sister; _she is me and I am her_.

But it was more than just that. In her perspective, they were nothing to each other while at the same time being everything in spirit. A constant thing that never should never change.

It was a feeling she still found hard to explain.

Miho didn't exactly _love_ her. She didn't want to hug her and feel her warmth. It wasn't that sort of relationship. But, at the same time, they _needed_ each other and there was that deep sense of loyalty and trust.

They could never betray the other.

It's not a matter that's easy to explain but it's almost like being programmed to instinctively look out for the other person, to automatically accept them no matter what. Too ambiguous of a concept to grasp, Miho supposed, but she still tried.

She was the type to think a lot.

Abruptly and without warning, something hard hit the back of her head as she bit back the sharp yelp and the easy tears that wanted to spring forward.

"Miho-chan is crying again!"

"Yah!" Her indignant outcry rang in the air as she glared, spinning on her feet to regard the offender as bravely as she could allow herself, "Stupid boy!"

Beside her, Mito stiffened before relaxing into the fighting stance that had come so easily to her when they started learning three months ago. Squinting her eyes, her sister released a fierce roar before springing off to race toward their second cousin, Yuusei.

Standing next to that brat was Kyu, who promptly pointed and shouted out in reasonable fear, "Idiot! Mito is coming after us now!"

"Leave my sister alone, you twerps!"

She felt hot and stuffy under the realization that she was only continuing to prove to be just as weepy as her village knew her to be. Always crying, always hiding, always shy.

The total opposite to what the Uzumaki stood for in their attitudes.

She couldn't help it then.

The tears she had been fighting so hard to keep at bay quickly coated her cheeks and dribbled down her chin.

"Girls!"

The tears fell even harder as she heard the voice of their handmaid, Chigusa.

How awful…how utterly… _embarrassing_.

Chigusa came into view just in time to see Mito slamming Yuusei's head into the ground and Kyu trip over his own feet in a desperate attempt to crawl away.

Hand heading straight up to get friendly with her face, Chigusa released a loud sigh and ordered out fiercely, "Stop crying already, stop beating up the neighborhood boys, and _come here right this instant_."

Face still damp and eyes puffy, Miho quickly traveled the distance and set foot in the requested destination before looking down at her toes in quiet shame.

"DATTEBA—!"

" _MITO. NOW._ "

" _Fine._ "

Her sister quickly joined her, arms crossed over her chest and her knuckles bloodied. A moment into her standoffish mannerism, she slid her gaze to meet Miho's before quietly whispering to say, "I'll get them back later for you, okay?"

"There will be none of that," Chigusa quickly denied, "there are important guests arriving today and your father has already had enough things to worry about _without_ incidents provided by _your_ brand of chaos."

"Tch," Mito muttered out bitterly, "fine, but I'm not going to get all prettied up for them, am I? You know I hate how stuffy those garments are!"

Chigusa merely smiled and went on as if she hadn't heard a thing, "It's time to get ready for the banquet, my girls; the Senju Clan is moments away."

**Evanesce**

Moments meant hours in Chigusa speak as Miho and Mito found themselves being dressed up like dolls, spending more than the better half of an hour getting their clothes set up on their slight bodies. Mito _abhorred_ it, while Miho found herself smiling at all the pretty colors they had chosen for them.

The only thing that bothered her was that they wore the exact same thing, down to the very last adjustment to their obiage. Which disappointed her for the pure reason of having wanted to see her sister in different colors other than the bright greens, oranges, and reds that she herself wore.

"Isn't it such a hassle though?" Mito whispered to Miho as they sat down to get their hair pinned and decorated, "We're only going to see them this once, it's such a waste to go through all of this effort when I could be out there practicing my katas."

Miho looked down to her swinging feet shyly as she wondered what to say in response. After all, she liked clothes and especially liked it when the handmaids had their hands in her long locks of hair. It felt nice to be touched in ways that didn't necessarily hurt, although she did despite the later onset headache that would come inevitably.

She also couldn't help but be glad that the festival was happening, for reasons why Mito seemed to hate it; it got her out of the taijutsu practice that would later leave her too exhausted to even focus on her studies. It was part of the many reasons why such scenes like the ones with the boys from earlier would occur.

She knew exactly why and yet, despite all better attempts at fixing it, Miho felt that she would always be the embarrassment to the Uzumaki name, especially as the daughter to the clan head himself. It was absolutely _shameful_ to have a daughter so weak, so undoubtedly unfit to lead as was expected of her.

So, unsure of what to say that wouldn't bring up an entire new set of tears for the guilt that would keep her up that night, Miho just smiled as best she could while focusing on swinging her feet without losing her geta on the upswing.

Noticing her small little game, Mito casually joined her with a small little giggle, "What do you think they're going to be like?"

Miho shrugged, "Maybe like Yuusei-san? Or Kyu-san?"

At that, her sister wrinkled her nose considerably, "That would be _the worst_. Ugh, I can't believe Tou-san wants one of them to be our future husbands. Well," Mito paused, tilting her chin up in thought, "one of _my_ future husbands. I don't think Tou-san wants you to be in a shinobi family when you get older."

She nodded along because it was true but looked away as her heart panged because it simply hurt to know it.

Miho refused to cry though, and moments later she looked back to her obviously concerned sister, "I'll be a fuinjutsu master though, one who just doesn't fight."

Face filling with relief, Mito grinned, "That's the way to look at it!"

"Miho-chan will be a beautiful lady for a noble higher than her current station," one of the handmaids, Yukari, murmured sweetly. She was a kind fifteen-year-old girl who had found herself employed in their household just a year ago, having been able to past the tests required of her in fuinjutsu. Miho had often found comfort with Yukari, who smiled with a lovely face and talked about the boys who all wanted to marry her.

Mito found her just a bit boring though, which Miho had never been able to understand why.

"That life wouldn't be so bad, probably," Mito noted with an obviously forced, pity filled smile.

"I bet I'll never get married," Miho murmured with a smile, "I think I'd like to travel instead, 'ttekisa."

Mito's true grin returned at the words as she pumped her fist up into the air, "Spoken like a true Uzumaki, 'ttebasa!"

Fumiko, the one working on Mito's hair, hissed at the movement, "Don't move! You'll ruin it!"

"Yeah, whatever, let it be ruined, 'ttebasa! I don't even care what they think about me!" Mito yelled out, bringing her hands to cross over her stomach. Which typically wasn't very easy in a kimono as she struggled to bring her hands fully around.

Miho giggled at the sight, delicately bringing her hand to her mouth like how her mother had been teaching her.

"Ahh, Miho-chan is much more elegant than you," Fumiko noted, as she nodded, "she'll certainly make a fine wife for a Daimyo."

Miho tried not to cringe _too_ hard at the thought, because, really, traveling sounded a whole lot more fun.

**Evanesce**

The boys were interesting to look at, to say the least, because it was the first time for her to see someone with _two_ hair colors instead of one. She had been told that was Itama, the third born son, who she could only guess on the age which she couldn't help think was her own. Miho thought the oldest one might have been thirteen, the one with a bad haircut and what seemed to be a permanent smile on his face, Hashirama. From there, it was the second born, Tobirama, then finally the youngest, Kawarama.

She didn't know what to make out of any of them, but thankfully they seemed to be avoiding the twins. Or, at the very least, _her._ It would certainly explain why every single time she tried to properly introduce herself, Miho either found herself with a puff of smoke in her face or being told to look at something far away—which she found herself falling for _every time._

Either way, the boys weren't the main focus of the event. Their parents were, as it was the start to their clan's pact with one another. Miho didn't know too much of the details but she thought that perhaps it was one of the greater relationships her clan had had with outsiders.

The Senju had promised to send them crops by ships, which Miho had noticed had been quite the trouble with her friends at the orphanage. It was probably why her father had offered in return to gift them with seals, powerful ones too. The sort that the Uzumaki gave out when it was someone they knew they could trust.

Miho thought that came from Butsuma having saved her father's life in one of the battles the Uzumaki had waged no less than a year ago. It had been one of the most fearful times in her life, and a little part of her felt disappointed to be avoided by the Senju when she simply wanted to thank the great men that had gotten her father home.

It was an hour into the ceremonial process that went with creating a pact that Miho finally got her chance, however.

With her fingers clenched tightly into her father's, standing to the left of him, her entire immediate family walked up the steps up the platform where the Senju would come to stand on as well. There, trying not to shake like a leaf in the wind when it came to being watched by more than five hundred eyes, Miho struggled not to hide behind his leg.

Trying especially hard as the Senju main family came up to meet them, notably with no women in line, Miho bravely met each other their gazes as her hold on her father's fingers tightened to an almost painful extent.

"Here we are brought together on this night to become united as one," her father's voice rang out, clear as the night in which they found themselves surrounded by glowing torches hung up by high, "because a life debt is not easy to pay, as it can only be repaid when another life is saved in return. It is because of this, in the trust that we have in the honor of our new brothers and sisters, that we find ourselves in a joining that will allow us all to prosper with equal trade in skill and in harvest."

"Here we are brought together on this night to become united as one," Butsuma echoed with a sure nod and a grave, certain smile to go together with it.

Then, as Mito had been instructed to earlier, she was the one to initiate the joining of hands as her fingers went into the hands of the oldest brother, Hashirama. Miho followed shortly after to clasp her shaking hands with Kawarama, who tried to reassure her with a squeeze. Yet it only made her cringe, too afraid to mess up in that moment.

Around them, completely caught unaware by it herself, cheers raised around them before in swift movements the rest of their combined clan members joined each other's hands. Tingles raised up her spine but before she could simply shake it off, voices began to peek out and before long, their voices raised into a chorus of melodies and strength.

It was the song of trust, so old that Miho's mind boggled at the thought that everyone somehow knew how to sing it justly and with all the lyrics intact, like they'd all been born knowing it. She herself had learned it when she was young, about four, and had since then sung it only five times more.

This would be her sixth.

**Evanesce**

Miho learned at a young age that if she only stepped back, she could stop being noticed, that she could breathe comfortably in shade.

Although this trick had been used when very few populated the main house—the same could not be said for when there were guests crawling around the grounds every which way as she attempted to dodge them all. It grew to be harder to pass out of sight with there always being five more others that would simply notice her movement and stare at her like she was a sight to behold.

They always cooed at her, calling her 'Miho-hime' although she had no claim to being a princess and didn't really want to either. She noticed that when her sister was with her, they never called _her_ names like that, so why was she so different?

She thought it might have been because they recognized weakness, like built-in weakness radars that had all led them to her. Miho hated that feeling the most, with people looking at her as if she were something 'other'. She hated them not having a reason to do it, only seeming to like looking at her simply because she was what most would call 'cute'.

Yet, always, they never called Mito those silly pet names. In fact, they all almost had this innate respectful attitude when meeting her, like they would have treated their father. Well, actually, that was a stretch but _still_.

The point was that somehow, despite them being identical twins, they could be told apart in an almost instant fashion.

Which only meant one thing; to the very core she was different, and to the very core, more than anything, she craved to be called 'the girls' at least once more before she had to give up on being grouped together with someone like her sister.

Because soon…as was inevitable, Miho would be the exact opposite to her remarkable sister.

Now, being faced with the truth as she ran to escape to her room, Miho wanted nothing more than to disappear. Most likely already knowing too well that dreams didn't come true unless people deserved it. There was not a doubt in her mind; she would never be called 'strong' or anything like it.

So, as what had become the unbreakable habit, Miho found herself hiding away in her room, too afraid to face the real truth.

**Evanesce – End**

**Some Much Needed Explaining BEFORE Going On** :

 _Samurai to Shinobi_ – being possibly one of the most influential roles in all of Japan, samurai take center stage in a lot of the historical times of Japan. However, shinobi did not make such a big impact and this is mostly because ninja never intended to make one.

Yet, in the Narutoverse, that is obviously not the case. In fact, it seems like their situations are swapped and shinobi take the roles of being private/for hire miniature armies for the wealthy. So, in this society, I have decided to preserve as much as I can by switching the roles of samurai to shinobi in terms of caste system and such.

Which brings me to…

 _Caste System_ – **this will be a long one but** _**please read.**_

* does not reflect actual power or political sway.

While we obviously have daimyo in the world of Naruto, there's been one thing that's been bugging me about the political set up translating from feudal Japan and into the Narutoverse. Historically a pack of daimyo had all been beneath an emperor that ruled over everything in the country. However, in the Narutoverse, there has never been a mention of an emperor.

 _ **So I've decided**_ _ **that**_ , in at least this time period for the Warring States Era, there will be an emperor.

Thus the ranks of feudal Japan will remain as close as possible in this universe:

**The Royal Class**

_The Emperor_

_The Royal Family_

_The Royal Priests_

**The Noble Class**

_The Daimyo_

_The Hokage*_

_The Shinobi_

**The Lower Class**

_Farmers_

_Artisans/Merchants_

_Eta/Hinin**_

_Prostitutes***_

_*Traditionally a shogun, or a military commander, would be ranked higher than a daimyo, but their role is being replaced and demoted in the case of this world to Hokage based on the behaviors I noticed in the Narutoverse._

_**Eta = people working jobs considered unclean like being an undertaker or butcher. Hinin = Severely outcasted members of society, like they work an unclean job or have even turned to a life of crime. They're both similar in treatment except the hinin are more made up of criminals and the eta just deal with a lot of dead things. Burakumin (hamlet/village people) is another word to use when referring to them._

_***not geisha! Geisha are considered artisans._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALSO: Some things to bear in mind if you plan on continuing to read: this is not edited and won't be until completion. This is due to me not wanting to get stuck in an eternal limbo of never being satisfied with my writing. Also, after a long time of contemplating, MadaOC is not entirely set in stone as I'll be going off of chemistry and will not force anything. Lastly, some of the early chapters are bad and a lot of the pacing is off and this is due to my slow time in coming to decide the direction I wanted to go in, as a result the voice can get a little inconsistent. I still hope that what is left can still become an enjoyable read as it has been to write.
> 
> Please enjoy.


	2. Anemone

**Ｗ** **ｉｌｌ ｏｆ Ｆｉｒｅ**

_**Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ 2** _

_There’s something to be said about the way the sound of your voice and the sight of your face makes me feel…_

_Something…that feels uncompleted._

_So—rather than to birth within me a desire for the whole truth—for you, I stand back in solitude, postponing all answers, and eat the words I still don’t have the courage to say._

**Anemone**

“Don’t cry, you big baby, ‘ttekisa,” Miho whispered to herself as she faced away from the mess she had just made with the vegetables. Blood dripped from the tip of her third finger in a red liquid flow that reminded her only of the calm pond wayside to her mother’s garden. Knife in the other palm, Miho held back the big fat tears that had built up at the waterline of her eyes. That task was only to be failed as, after feeling the shudder of the raw searing pain that came hand in hand with her wound, they spilled over the edge and slid down her chubby cheeks.

Her whimpering came second to her increased embarrassment, and it only became more evident what would happen soon after.

“What’s the big problem _now_?” Jurie asked, voice impatient as Miho heard signs of skin, an arm or hand, hitting fabric in what she could only assume meant that the head cook was slapping off the flour that came with making mochi.

“Nothing,” Miho warbled out and cringed, waiting for the usual harsh sigh that came with the faults in her personality. God, how she hated herself, hated being this way. What made things difficult is that she had no idea on how to be anything _but_ …what she already _is_.

“Go outside, wash your hands, and come back after you’ve calmed down,” Jurie ordered fiercely, most likely fed up with having to look after the youngest daughter in the house while her sister was out with their father, actually _training_.

Miho, suffice to say, felt miserable as she scuttled out of the kitchen and down the stepping stones that openly lead to an exposed freshwater pond. She hurried forward—in fear that she would take too long—before crouching in front of the slowly lapping water. Her attentive, puffy eyes centered in on the tiny sprinkling of fishes before it soon became blurred over by the new round of tears that sprung up unbidden and unwanted.

“Pathetic, ‘ttekisa.”

Still, her cut hurt too much and her body shook visibly from the pain.

How badly she wanted to a body unhampered by physical faults or drawbacks. She ached only for the ability to be right there with her sister, learning the katas and excelling in places that the boys in her vicinity had teased her for being weak in. That way, she would stop being such a bother to everyone.

“Wishes don’t come true, do they?” Miho whispered before dipping her trembling wounded hand into the water before her feet.

“Not with an attitude like that, they won’t,” a new voice interjected in with, causing Miho to nearly wet herself before she fell back after her face was nearly swatted with something colored brightly red. She quickly blinked the tears out of her eyes, rubbing them away with her clean fingers before gazing up at the familiar looking boy whose hair was brown as he held a warm expression.

In his hand was a mere, single red flower.

“You’re…Senju Hashirama, aren’t you?” Miho asked, feeling only like a mere hollow husk of who she normally was, battling shock and pain alike. She blinked once more when he nodded confidently—and that’s when it hit her.

Hold on a sec…

“You’re Senju Hashirama!” She couldn’t tell exactly why she said it again, but it seemed to solidify the fact that before her was her father’s closet friend’s son. The nice one to boot, as the one with the pretty white hair didn’t seem to like her very much from the first and last meeting they shared. Although, his other two brothers could be even nicer—she had still yet to meet them in person, albeit she knew their names by heart, courtesy of Chigusa’s nagging.

The boy that stood before her laughed, causing her cheeks to redden in quick response. It was then that she turned very, very quiet and still.

Hashirama blinked before cocking his head, “What’s wrong, Miho-chan?”

She instantly swallowed, blinking as it abruptly hit her. _He’s just asked me a question…_

She didn’t know what to say.

Clamming up, Miho pursed her lips tightly together, watching in abject horror as he frowned. Then, to her amazement, he sat right down next to her. Her nerves scattered everywhere in response.

“I…uh, saw this flower, you know. It sort of reminded me of you,” Hashirama began, lifting the red flower into focus. She looked at it in uncertainty, noting how pretty it was in its color and vibrancy. Its petals looked to be so earnest, so honest in the way they caressed his palm, sitting there as if it were a small simple teacup.

Then…

She sucked in a breath, yelping out as she smacked it out of his hand, “It’s poisonous, ‘ttekisa! Anemone are poisonous, ‘ttekisa! Quick, give me your hand, ‘ttekisa!” Miho wasted no time in snatching his palm before shoving it into the water, ignoring the way her cut burned in response before she tore off a bit of her knee-length kimono. She couldn’t get to diligently scrubbing at the infected areas fast enough.

“Woah, slow down, Miho-chan,” Hashirama exclaimed, regarding her with surprise as he gave her a good natured grin. She paused in her actions, only then taking the time to realize how idiotic she must have acted.

“Sorry,” she whispered out, and fought hard against the new set of tears that sprung up in response. She loathed herself at that very moment. Huffing out a soft sigh, she stood, bowed lowly, before she turned and rushed away to find a place to cry in peace.

“W-Wait! Miho-cha—!”

But she was too far away.

**Anemone**

“Miho! Get your tiny little round bottom back here!” The sluggish handmaid cried out, splayed fingers soaring out to snatch the slight girl in mid-action. “Hasegawa-san, catch her for me, please!”

Not to be had, the young girl darted out of reach, cutting back to nearly dodge an elbow in her raw haste to catch up to her already running sister. That was the fun part about being short; you can make almost anybody taller than you look like a bumbling fool for a change—never mind the fact that she would feel terribly guilty later.

The elderly instructor fumbled with his attempt to reel in the young eight year old, who mercilessly made a grand show of fainting to the left before shifting to the right, barely just missing the corner of a crate smelling lightly of peaches and melons. Her shoulders squished in, somewhat feeling the guilt at hearing a deep male voice’s outcry, followed only by the sounds of chaos and wreckage.  

“Mito,” she screeched, shaking any shred of shame off, “not fair! I’m not as tall as you!”

The mischievous redhead barely spared a glance, only taking a small second to reach her tiny, milky cream hand out to her younger sister, fingers slipping against each other before palms collided and the solid bond was formed.

Miho’s yelp could be heard in the mass of similar childish noises, body jerking forward as the two of them picked up speed, careening and flying beneath the waving arms of the hectically crowded streets. Shouts of the people infiltrated from all around them; sharp, rich, or light, the voices carried to the young Uzumaki’s heightened senses.

Exasperated, she winced slightly at the touch of Mito’s palm against hers, noticing the painful way her delicate skin bunched up as her sandaled feet slapped roughly against the rocky, paved street. However, Miho bit down any complaints, hoping only to be seen as wild and untamed as her tricky sister and far from the image she had built up in their clan so far.

They continued to run, passing by street vendors and stalls by the dozens before Mito took a sharp turn to the side, tugging Miho into a clear ally way. Miho held back the sharp yelp as it pressed to be released, wincing when she hit her elbow against the edge of the building, her body shaking and hopping around the deserted stretch of land. It wasn’t before long that she felt a hand touch her, Mito going out of her way to rub the pain away gently for her tinier sister.

Blinking away the dots that blurred her vision, Miho took in a gulp of air and squinted at her barely winded sibling apprehensively, “So, now what?”

“We’ll be headed to the orphanage, of course. I’m sure Isaku-kun and Yama-chan are wondering why we’re so late.”

“It’s your fault,” Miho muttered out lowly, thinking back to the trouble of before with their handmaid, “we could have just asked Okaa-san if we could visit our friends. Now, Chigusa-san will be angry at us when we get back…”

Mito merely grinned back smartly, “But you followed along, and now we’ll both get the blame. Besides, it’s fun this way. Hasegawa-san needs to get out more, you know, we’re sort of helping them both in a way.”

Perturbed and just a little bit disgruntled, Miho held herself firmly back from her sister and jutted her chin out purposely, “How does Chigusa-san benefit with having her charges leave her every which way?”

With a grandiose flip of her hair, Mito placed a palm to her hip before answering, “Didn’t you know? They both have a thing for each other. We’re just getting Hasegawa-san in shape for the day he takes her to his bed.”

To be clear, she hadn’t the faintest clue of what any of that meant.

But her checks burned furiously with what she could only assume was the implied message.

“I-I don’t understand, Mito-chan.”

Mito rolled her eyes and gave a pat to her younger sister’s shoulder, “Just don’t worry about it then, you’re still young.”

“Yah! Really, Mito-chan, we’re the same age!” Miho released a low growl before huffing out a sigh, “I’m not stupid…I know…a little bit about that adult stuff.” She very nearly choked on her air as she spoke the words, bringing her cool palms up to pacify the burning in her cheeks.

Her sister promptly snorted, “Twins and yet so different…but I guess that’s your charm. I’m sure Otou-san will have no issues in pairing you with a high ranking man.”

Miho turned pale before fiercely shaking her head, “I’m not ever getting married, Mi-chan, you know that.”

Mito had a private snicker to herself, bringing her hand up to barely cover the sight of her teeth, “Yeah, I know. You and you’re strange fear of men.”

The flush returned in full power as Miho coughed, looking down to her sandaled feet in an attempt to hide the shame in her eyes, “It’s not… _all_ men. Just the scary ones.”

The older of the two rolled her eyes, “Whatever, we’re wasting daylight with this chitchat. We should just hurry to the orphanage.”

“R-Right,” Miho said, nodding as the two of them quickly took off down the alleyway, finding their way to the only place that offered the sanctuary and peace they both so earnestly craved.

The orphanage was a place that was, in short, shambles in comparison to every other place in the village of Uzushio. The wood was weak and creaky, most likely due to the fact that it sat so very close to the sea. The wind tended to be too harsh at this specific shore, the strong ocean current sweeping up the coast, smacking roughly up against the stilts that diligently held up the building.

Still, it was the twin’s favorite place to hang out, to just be with their friends.

“It’s the twins!” Cried a sudden voice, from a boy looking on from the window.

Mito grinned openly at him while Miho blinked dumbly. Then her eyes promptly widened as soon as she recognized one of the newest charges of the orphanage. His name was Genta and he was rather friendly to her for the most part. She decided that he didn’t mean ill will with the calling of their second, and just as abhorred, nickname.

“’atch out, ya idiot!” Yamamoto yelled out loudly, coming up from behind the boy with hair that resembled the colors of raspberries. She promptly swung and slapped at the back of his head.

Genta jumped up in surprise and looked up at her guiltily, “What is it this time, Yamamoto-san!?”

“Yama-chan is fast with training,” Mito noted and Miho bit back the giggle that wanted to spring free. Instead, she settled with a nod and a smile.

The two girls climbed up the stairs that lead to the doors of the orphanage and opened them just in time to hear Yamamoto exclaim, “They don’t like to be called that, ya dope! This is why we can’t trust you to remember squat!”

“I-I’ll try to remember from now on, then Yamamoto-san!”

“Maybe we just have to smack it into his head?” Isaku suggested as he came into quick view of the girls, along with his following of kids younger than his ten years of age. ‘Aniki’, they liked to call him. Unlike Yamamoto, who liked to keep it straight and simple that she had no familial ties with then aside from clan, Isaku tended to love kids to the point that he often even became a mother figure to even Miho.

Never Mito, though.

That would be weird.

“Leave him alone, you might make him even stupider,” her sister went in to say, laughing to herself, “Ain’t that right, Miho-chan?”

_Chigusa-san is going to be mad later that Mito isn’t using proper words._

She kept the thought to herself as she settled on, instead, saying, “Ah, I like Genta-kun this way. It’s best not to push it.” To accompany her words, she slid a warm smile in his direction.

The seven year old jumped forward in excitement, making her nearly fall back in blatant surprise. He paid no heed to the effect of his actions before he shouted out, “Yeah, yeah, she _likes_ me!”

“No way,” Isaku spoke up, glaring darts in his direction, “she likes me more! Don’tcha, Miho-chan?”

She felt her face rise in heat as everyone shifted their heads up to look at her. She had zero ideas on what they were even asking about and why even her _sister_ turned to stare at her.

“I-I like both of them, but I’ve known Isaku-kun the longest…so, him?” It was way too hard to stutter the words out, but she was slightly impressed with herself that she managed to do it.

“No fair!” Genta cried out, “I was so _sure_ that I had finally dethroned you!”

“It’ll take a few years for _that_ to happen,” Mito noted dryly before grinning her toothiest grin, “but we’re wasting daylight! Let’s hit the beach, and later, we prank the ‘unprankable’ Watanabi-san!”

Her words were only met by a chorus of cheers in regards to her idea.

**Anemone**

Nights for her were strange things, often times disorienting and weird.

There had yet to be a night that she didn’t dream such confusing scenes. In fact, she couldn’t recall a time when she hadn’t been even a little creeped out by them, and even a tiny bit sad. Because there was a reoccurring dream that just _did not_ sit well with her.

Something about metal scraping against metal, rigorous breathing, high and low pitched voices careening into the air haplessly as they rose higher and higher into screams; shrieks. Something about her entire body being filled with fear and adrenaline. Something about how unexpected and surreal it was, how she hadn’t expected it… It was all so bizarre and scary that it was hard to pinpoint exactly what bothered her so much.

Well, then again, that dream only came on particularly _bad_ days.

Days like how today had been.

Miho sat up in her futon and sighed miserably into her hands, resisting the strong urge to cry when images of liquid red came to her mind.

Sometimes she would get caught up in her world, she supposed. It was times like this, right after a scary dream, that she’d realize just how terrifying her world was.

It was, if she thought about it, far worse than any other dream she could think of—not even the one about a silver haired boy crying in front of a sink with visions of blood stained hands could surpass what she knew to be the everyday life of her home.

Not to say that her life was unbearable—in fact it was quite the opposite. She knew, being the daughter of the head of clan, that her life was far more pristinely posh than many others. _Especially_ because she was a girl, the main reason why her family didn’t try harder to make her into a fighter.

At this rate, she’d be married off just like Mito had said before, thanks to her being of no real use in terms of the fighting that her clan did with others.

It was a wonder in and of itself that her father still insisted on getting her into fuinjustu when she had failed so horribly with all of her other training. Perhaps he noticed her growth in her academics instead? But then, he never did praise her for that—and he was never the type to be short of praise when it was well deserved.

Miho huffed out a sigh, debating in her head the ultimate question that had always lingered in her head: did she even really want to fight?

It was so terribly scary, just imagining how horrible it would be to have to lay a negative hand to someone else, to be the one to end an existence.

One of her most hidden thoughts—the one she hadn’t even had the guts to tell Mito—was that she was, in a way, _glad_ that she was so very inept. Otherwise, she’s be killed before she was even at the age for marriage and that didn’t sound very tempting.

But then she reminded herself that if she fell into thoughts like those, the useless and weak ones, that she’s be no different than the walkers that her dad often discussed at dinner banquets with the voice of disgust and shame.

Walkers, people who abandoned the clan to save their own hides.

Troubled by the sudden guilt that sprang forward, Miho stood up from her futon and padded quietly out of the room that she shared with her sister. She spared a glance to assess her twin’s sleeping form, noting the way the moonlight hit the strands of her haphazardly strewn hair, before Miho stepped out the shoji door.

By this point, Miho was no stranger to walks in the dark, although she used to be afraid of them when she was younger. That was before she realized how nice it was to be alone with her thoughts, free of the persistent sounds that came hand in hand with the culture of her clan. 

Slowly, almost like the stray cats she would spot in the main strip, Miho came to sit on the wooden deck right outside her bedroom door. There, she blinked up at the moon and noticed only then that the sakura trees had been blooming as of late.

The pink petals danced in the wind, flourishing brilliantly with the power of it.

She couldn’t help it, the song coming instantly to mind as she gave a testing hum of the melody in her head.

Then, before long, she was singing, eyes locked only on the sight of the moon and the breathtaking display of nature around her. Her voice was tiny and small, weak, as she started but slowly but surely, certainty took place.

With the image of beauty before her, she sang, “Sakura, sakura, blanketing the countryside as far as you can see. Is it a mist, or clouds? Fragrant in the morning sun, sakura, sakura. Flowers in full bloom. Sakura, sakura, across the spring sky as far as you can see. Is it a mist, or clouds? Fragrant in the air, come now, come. Let's look, at last!”

The tune of the song, the very melody, made her heart ache for song strange reason. She clutched at her chest before a happier song came to mind, albeit a bit more out of place.

“Rainy day, rainy day, I like it; my mother will come here with my umbrella. Pitch, pitch, chap, chap, run, run, run! Bag on my shoulder, I follow my mother; a bell is ringing somewhere. Pitch, pitch, chap, chap, run, run, ru—”

“Oh, oh, that girl is dripping wet; she is crying under the willow,” a new voice suddenly interjects with, strikingly familiar and yet foreign all at the same time. Miho quickly seizes up, startled out of her wits, before hearing the voice continue on with the song, “Pitch, pitch, chap, chap, run, run, run! Mother, mother, I'll lend my umbrella; "Hi girl, use this umbrella." Pitch, pitch, chap, chap, run, run, run! I am all right, don't worry. Mother will take me in her big umbrella. Pitch, pitch, chap, chap, run, run, run!”

The stranger came into view then, leaving the shadows that came from the foliage from the stone garden right outside her door. She blinked, and felt her soul sink to the very tips of her toes before she softly whispered out, “Senju Hashirama…?”

He scratched at his chin, possibly in good humor, “Why is it that this feels like it’s happened before?”

Miho shrugged, swallowing thickly, “I dunno.”

“Probably because it has,” Hashirama easily answered for himself. And, just like before, he made himself at home right next to her. “You have a very pretty voice, by the way.”

She said nothing, refusing to let him wrangle the words out of her in case he only meant to make a fool out of her. After all, she had a right to be suspicious. Only her sister and the few hard earned friends treated her this nicely, and this boy was a complete stranger!

“Ah, you sure sounded sad though. Something the matter?”

Miho squinted up at him, still wordless.

“I’m guessing you had a bad dream then.”

She fought off the chill that ran up her spine and down to her fingertips. How could he be so spot on accurate? It surely wasn’t fair.

“I know because you have the look Itama sometime has when he wakes up from one.”

“Oh.”

She winced just as she realized what she had done. She wished she could just shut up forever.

“Ah, come on, Miho-chan. I’m not so bad.” Hashirama looked to her earnestly, reaching a hand out to…poke her.

Her brow twitched.

His finger went to her nose as she turned to look at him.

Her eyes twitched.

“Poke,” he murmured before flicking her in the forehead.

She hissed at the sharp pain before glaring at him, “Alright, alright! I’ll talk, you mean boy.”

“I must be doing _something_ right if that’s the worst insult you can think of,” he joked, knocking his shoulder with hers. She bit back the grunt of pain as he went on, “So what’s been eating at you? Is it the anemone thing? Because that was just me being stupid, it wasn’t your fault at all.”

She winced bitterly at the reminder of her embarrassment before turning to look at him. She spoke in all serious as she found the courage to speak honestly, “Our world.”

“Our world? What about it bothers you?”

She huffed out a sigh, lifting up her bare feet in the air as she looked away and mumbled, “I think it’s unfair and cruel. It’s filled with a bunch of mean bad guys who like to pick on others and kill them. I mean, why is there even such a thing as war? And why do we accept it so easily as fact?”

“I dunno, I can’t say I’ve ever really thought about it…but I do agree. It is pretty sad. But I don’t think it’s just that. This world, these people, they really are capable of great things, y’know? Maybe one day there will be a world filled vastly with kind people like you, who are willing to risk themselves to save idiots from poisonous flowers.”

Miho flushed bright red as she met his gaze. Her heart sped up in such a foreign manner, she was lost for a quick moment before she came back down to reality. She sighed, gently tapping the back of her heels to the side of the deck.

“What now?” He asked, but unlike how it was usually said, he only seemed to be filled with kindness and warmth.

She couldn’t lie to a person like this—it would hurt her far too much to respond such honest words with mere filth.

Miho swallowed her insecurities as she whispered out softly, “That would be nice…but at this rate, we’ll never live to see it happen. We’ll be long dead.”

Hashirama went quiet for a moment, tilting his head to the side in thought before he turned to her. The grin on his face took her breath away as he snatched her hand into his own and shouted out victoriously, “I know! We can just be the ones to make it happen!”

_Be the ones...to make it happen?_

The words rang in her head like the bell that announces the start of a festival into the village of Uzushio. Along with it, she felt the exact same rush as she did in times like those. Her veins went into overdrive as her pulse quickened, as if her heart were to pop out of her chest at any second.

Miho couldn’t resist; she grinned as broadly as she could manage and responded in kind, “It’s kind of silly to think that we could be the ones to do it, but…I like it!”

Hashirama paused, eyes widening before his cheeks darkened with a blush—or so she assumed. Her smile fell with uncertainty.

“Pretty,” he finally breathed, swallowing, “you’re prettiest when you’re smiling.”

Her brows shot up in shock and surprise. A boy had never told _her_ that. Only her sister, as a matter of fact.

She went silent once more, slowly being engulfed by her racing thoughts as she deliberated on what he could possibly _mean_ in saying that.

“Miho-chan,” Hashirama went on, unperturbed by her silence, “let’s make a promise.”

“Promise?” She echoed.

“Yeah, a promise. I’ll be leaving the island after three more days and it’s looking like my clan is going to have a clash with this other big clan, so I can’t exactly see you for a while. I know we just met and all, but I can kinda see how awfully shy you are—it can’t be good.”

“Where are you going with this?” Miho asked hesitantly.

“Promise me that you won’t give up, and that you’ll be there with me, trying to change the world. Because I know I sure will be.” Hashirama grinned then, full set of teeth shining bright white in the moonlight.

Miho swallowed down the voice in her head that wanted to tell him how inept and worthless she was, how he was wasting breath asking this of her but something in her stopped before it could be said. She merely smiled back, a softer one than last time, and nodded.

Hashirama nodded back, and stood up, “I should be getting back then. I’ll see you tomorrow if I can!”

“O-Okay!”

He was quickly out of sight and down the hall in no time and Miho couldn’t help but giggle.

She sighed out contentedly before a strange idea popped into her head.

That’s when she traced it into the dirt. She had no clue on what it could possibly mean, but she had a feeling it was something precious. It contained…an entire world of meaning, seemingly lost to even her own thoughts.

三九。

She figured it was at least something positive.

 **Anemone** **–** **End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References Explained:
> 
> Sakura, Sakura, the first song she sings, is the name of a children’s song in Japan. It’s actually very beautiful, with a hauntingly sad sound to it.
> 
> Rainy Day (amefuri), the second song, is also a children’s song with a happier, more laid back but upbeat tune.
> 
> 三九 – Sankyu (Thank You), it’s a number pun that’s common in Japanese slang. Just like how 801 stands for yaoi. San (三) stands for three, and kyuu (九) stands for nine. Yay for number puns!


	3. Promise to Keep

  **Ｗｉｌｌ　ｏｆ　Ｆｉｒｅ**

**_Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ　3_**

_In a momentary silence, scattered in the darkness, turned out to be countless words lost to the wind and without destination._

_“How can I change like that too?”_

**Promise to Keep**

“Back straight!” Hayami shouted, whacking at Miho’s poor form as she held back the loud yelp and tears alike. Sucking in a shaky breath, she obeyed what orders she could follow as she gazed down at what would soon be another heartbreaking failure. “That is _not_ much better. How can even something like the seiza position be impossible to you?”

She couldn’t speak up, in fear that the truth of the matter would spout out of her terribly loose lips. After all, she had been told by Mito of all people to keep the fact that her right ankle had been twisted during their running around with the orphans a secret. Otherwise, their father would grow suspicious and ban them from having any free time at all! She couldn’t have that; her free time with her friends had been the only things keeping her sane of late.

Miho hadn’t been fairing so well since the departure of the main members of the Senju clan and she quickly found her heart sore in a way that begged only questions but gave no answers.

But then, Miho hadn’t been expecting that her koto lessons would start today of all days. Her father was getting more aggressive with her studies it seemed, and one might think that this would be cause to rejoice in the fact that he still thought of her despite his busy schedule. However, despite this other voice, it was actually just becoming blaringly obvious that he had given up on her in the way that mattered.

She tried to have hope.

While being musically talented wasn’t especially a largely demanded trait in kunoichi, it could be that he was just trying to set her off on a different path than the other girls…

Yet, if that was the case, he wouldn’t have exempted her from taijutsu classes or anything else of shinobi importance.

It was clear and obvious to see that he was actually primping her to be the wife of a lord, or maybe even one of those pretty girls at the houses with makeup caked upon their soft flesh.

She would have gladly sabotaged the plan, had it not been her love for music. In fact, it had even taken her by surprise, the heat that filled her veins when facing what looked like a form of destiny.

Staring down at the strings of the wooden instrument, she had not expected the shivers nor the rush of excitement that cascaded down her pale, creamy skin. Already in her head, the sounds of the plucked strings hummed hauntingly in her head as she recalled the first time she ever heard live music played.

It was nearly as if the very voice of a god had spoken to her, telling her that this was the life she was destined to live.

It had to be why nothing else was working.

Her heartbeat quickened in realization that this must have been the work of fate.

Then her chest began to ache when she began to grasp that this was her savior.

Music would become her path in life…

Or so she had thought.

Quickly after what had been a life altering meeting, she had become acquainted with a woman even meaner than Chigusa—on a _bad_ day. Hayami Takemura was what Miho had only dreamt of in nightmares, as she had the look of a strict man, and the regal bearing of lady in the higher ranks of society. Her thin black eyebrows tilted up dangerously as she assessed the meek, quiet mouse-like Miho, and it those cold ice blue eyes that struck the young eight year old with fear.

To add to it, Hayami carried a leather whip around like it was nothing, and did not hesitant when using it.

Her nerves were alight with anxiety and terror as she struggled to pay attention to the directives.

This had become her existence in the short fifteen minutes since her life had altered so drastically.

“Is that all your will amounts to?” Hayami asked, piercing into Miho’s thoughts when she realized her back had promptly sagged with response to the subject matter.

She nibbled delicately on her bottom lip before sucking in it and determinedly shaking her head. Even so, the tears dribbled down her chin, and she strongly resisted the urge to wipe them away with the sleeve of her furisode. Instead, she huffed out a breath in her nose and corrected her face the best way she could, with it still being covered in salty tears.

She had to become stronger, if she were to become worthy of what destiny she could see in front of her.

Miho would have only to fight against the pain and follow instructions. She knew she could do it; she _had_ to do it.

She sucked in a breath and looked to Hayami for more information as her teacher scowled down at her in something akin to disgust. But she couldn’t look away, as all she could do to protect her future was watch her newest challenge look kunai into her tiny form.

Miho would later question how she was possibly able to accomplish _that_ on her own. But she supposed she was just merely sick and tired of being weak all the time.

It was time to impress her sister for a change.

“I suppose that position is acceptable for now, but I do want you to sit only in that form from this moment on until I tell you otherwise.”

“Yes, sensei!”

“Now,” Hayami began, procuring a pouch of something beneath her ocean blue obi, “it’s time to find the tsume that fits for your tiny fingers. Give me your hand and tell me if the squeeze is too painful, or if it’s too loose. I’ll get a more properly sized set for our next lesson, once I’ve measured the length and size of your digits.”

“Yes, sensei,” Miho readily responded with, eyes setting on smooth looking objects that fell loosely from the bag. On closer inspection, she found that they looked to be made of ivory, and had been smoothed, buffered, and shaved so well into squared, cubic forms that it was nearly as beautiful to Miho as the koto itself.

“You will wear three of these; one for the thumb and two for the first two fingers. The left edge of this,” Hayami directed, pointing with her sharply pristine forefinger, “is what you will be using to pluck with the thumb. The right edge will be used for the other tsume. Understood?”

Miho instantly caught on, nodding in quick fascination to the contents of the lesson.

“Good, there may yet still be hope for you yet, student.” Hayami tentatively grunted out approval before snatching the delicately soft fingers of the hesitant eight year old before her. She wasted no time in beginning the fitting for the tsume. Nonchalantly, she murmured out, “The best way to sit is the seiza position, as it allows the forty-five degree angle that is optimal for creating the best sound possible with the koto instrument. Now, this is an actual universal, undebatable law, my dear child, as no student of mine will do anything but their best, I can guarantee that to you.”

“Yes, sensei,” she softly murmured in response as she watched her teacher stuff and snatch away the ivory pieces before finding one that suitably fit her slim fingers.

“A size one…not surprised, considering how petite you are.” Hayami frowned, “Bigger hands would have been better, but these should do.” The older woman squinted at her, as if it were all her own fault that she didn’t turn out to be bigger in size. Dryly, she continued, “Be sure to drink your milk.”

“Yes, sensei.”

“Next, time to tune…”

**Promise to Keep**

“I’ll punch her for you, if ya want me to,” Mito suggested in all seriousness as she patted the wet cloth that laid over her twin sister’s eyes.

“No, it’s fine, ‘ttekisa. I’ll be fine, ‘ttekisa.”

“I don’t know what fine means in your book, but it sounds to me like it’s a wrong definition.”

Miho sighed out softly, tugging the wet cloth down from her puffy eyes as she gaze Mito a look. They just stared at each other then, and thought.

She didn’t know why, but they did this a lot; gazing at each other, wordless, yet still communicating something somehow.

Mito huffed out a breath from her nose, tilting her chin up as she became annoyed with what Miho was implying.

“I know you want me to back off now that you have this new dream or something, but you can’t just drop that on me so quickly and expect me to back off. I have thoughts and feelings of my own, ‘ttebasa!” The redhead brought herself up off her stomach to kneel as she loomed darkly over Mito. There seemed to be a wetness in her eyes that seemed so unlike her character that she could only stare up at her sister in blatant shock, “Tou-san is taking you away from me with all these lessons, so I haven’t been able to do it lately but it’s my job! My job, ‘ttebasa! I _need_ to protect you, dummy!”

“Oh.”

She had no idea whether to be flattered that Mito loved her so much, or annoyed with the fact that she thought of her as such a weak thing. The truth was a hard thing to accept, in most cases.

Thoughts that contradicted one another running in her head aside, Mito somehow found herself laughing.

Mito sat back, arms coming to cross over her chest as she regarded her twin sister with eyes that looked to be as sharp as shuriken, “What’re you laughing at?”

“I don’t know, but I’m starting to get hungry, so can we talk about this later and go see how long dinner is going to be?”

Mito instantly grinned, “Of course! Food always comes first, even above you.”

Miho rolled her eyes in response as she set her cloth away into the water basin besides her futon before she took to standing up. She only hissed slightly when applying pressure to her ankle, as she set off towards the door.

She found it was easier to handle pain when thinking of something else.

Food definitely begged for the attention.

“Hey,” Mito suddenly said, stopping right before they entered into the dining quarters. She turned to stare at Miho with a sudden heated fervor, “I heard that Izumi-san’s dog gave birth, so why don’t we head over there after dinner? Should still be light out by then, I think.”

“Okay,” she agreed, a flush finding its way to her cheeks as she imagined playing with the cute baby pups and its mama. Although, that probably wouldn’t happen for a few more weeks. Last time she had been around for the birth of dogs, it had taken nearly an entire two months for her to be able to even go close enough to hold them. She hoped it wouldn’t take so long this time.

“Yippee! Let’s eat quickly, ‘ttebasa!” Mito jumped in the air as she slid the door open and hopped into the room.

As per usual at this time in the day, a simple meal had been laid out on the dinner table with their parents having already beaten them there, along with whoever they had invited to join them. It was usually like this on the short days before their father left to lead the clan into clashes with whoever dared butt into their much needed missions.

Her father often complained about how the system worked out, but she still didn’t understand it very well. Fighting was pretty much an idiot’s desire in her eyes, but she also knew the value it had in her clan.

The whole thing was based off of competition and scarcity as far as Miho could tell.

In short, Daimyos in the land issued missions that a clan would then complete. If a clan had a hereditary advantage—or if the clan had a special social standing—it would be the meaning akin to life or death. The lower clans, Miho had learned, often went into hiding or died out thanks to the bigger families slaughtering them or just by the mere effect of being poor and starving.

Miho couldn’t say for sure, but she was pretty sure that the Uzumaki clan was one of the strongest around—but that could also be the common pride that tended to float around their island like an illness.

She did know, however, that factually the Senju clan was one of the top clans—next to the Uchiha, of course. Her father bragged a lot about the little detail, declaring that his best friend was the leader of such strength, a trait to be greatly admired. Similarly, he also liked to mention about how the secret of their long lasting friendship lied in the fact that the Uzumaki’s goal was merely to live strong healthy lives, and not to overshadow others. So became a beneficial relationship of the Senju helping keep their island safe, while the Uzumaki freely gave them seals—lessons in fuinjutsu—to use.

“Have a seat, dears,” their mother told them, waving at the free spots on the left of the already crowded table. It only took Miho a second to realize who they were to be entertaining that night; convoys for the Daimyos, three of them. She felt a strange sense of accomplishment, just knowing that her family was doing well with their art. They _must_ be here for seals, after all.

Smiling as softly as she could, she kept her gaze held low before bowing upon her passing the threshold of the room. Mito reluctantly went along with her actions as Miho straightened back up and slowly made her way to her seat.

Unconsciously, she settled herself into the oh-so painful seiza position, very nearly forgetting the fact that her ankle had swollen up. It was a bitter reminder.

A tiny grunt of pain escaped past her lips but she readily grinned past it as she looked to her father.

He nodded towards her, looking almost proud, before he boomed out cheerfully, “Now that my beautiful girls have appeared, let’s enjoy this great food. No sense in waiting for the miso to freeze.”

The convoys chuckled amongst themselves readily as they all echoed the usual words spoken before eating, before they snapped their wooden chopsticks apart.

Miho mirrored them, picking apart her grilled fish while keeping silent as she waited for the dinner conversation to pick up.

“How did your koto lessons go?” their mother asked, smiling at any prospective news. How she hadn’t ever doubted Miho one bit was a marvel of sorts, but she then again she also fairly vacant in the head—a usual trait for the bearer of seals, the person who took upon themselves many flesh seals to keep the knowledge of their people alive.

“They went okay,” Miho replied with, eager to please.

“I see that your posture has improved,” her mother gushed, eyeing the way her every limb was kept. “Have you started practicing any songs yet?”

“Yes, but I’m still really new to it. Remembering the thirteen strings and their sounds is only the first step, after all. Takemura-sensei says that I’ll need to get better at multi-tasking, and that I need to drink more milk.”

In response, her father beamed with pride, “See, I just _knew_ that you would do well with this. You’re always singing, my sweet flower.”

Miho blushed and soared inwardly at the unusually high praise she was receiving. She _really_ hadn’t been expecting it to happen—a sharp contrast in comparison to the gazes of disappointment that lingered around her every action. It sure was a nice change of pace.

“Train up well, okay, dear? Soon you will be a great help to our clan, I’m sure,” her mother murmured.

She wasn’t exactly sure how _that_ would work out—playing music wasn’t exactly the greatest importance in terms of training to become a ninja. Either way, she was just appeased with the words they had already given her.

“Oh, before I forget, you’re starting fuinjutsu classes tomorrow, okay, girls?” their dad informed them, inciting a cry of excitement from Mito and a look of raw concern from Miho.

She prayed that she would do well, clenching her fingers into fists to calm the sudden butterflies that appeared in her stomach.

The dinner went on pleasantly from there, the convoys speaking up every now and then about the taste of the food, words being said that would be sure to put a glow on Jurie’s face if she had heard.

As soon as they were allowed out of sight—their father excusing them so that he would be able to discuss business—they darted out of the front entrance in quick search of Izumi’s house.

It was easy to find after all the times they had been there in the past for miscellaneous things, the home being a larger one in comparison to the smaller, outlying abodes. It was even in a more privatized section of the island, the one that had been nary touched by a hand other than the clearing of a few trees here and there. Although, they didn’t play there very often though—Izumi joined them at the orphanage more often than not—so she knew very little else about the place other than location.

Slowly nearing the place of her thoughts, it was as if the very thought of her friend summoned her, the slight, waifish girl standing at the front of the house, hopping down the stepping stones one at time before taking note of the twins upright in her path.

“Yo,” Mito greeted carelessly, grinning, “how are the puppies? Anything we can do?”

Izumi titled her heart shaped face before bobbing her head, “Sure, ‘ttekari! There’s tons to do, like Kaa-san told me. But first I’m heading out to the markets to the find more blankets. Wanna come with, ‘ttekari?”

Miho wasn’t so sure, eyeing the long, deserted road that lead into the main part of the village. There were a lot of trees in their way after all, and that meant danger. Besides, walking any further would just irritate her ankle more.

But before she could say anything, Mito chimed in with a cheerful, “We’d love to, ‘ttebasa!”

She bit back a sigh as the three went back down the slope before jarring off to the east in their quest for blankets. They had to be careful though, because it was getting dark and it’d be easy to fall down the sloping cliff in that sort of lighting.

Miho was stressed the entire time, walking on something akin to pins and needles while at the same time battling against the pain in her ankle.

She clearly had no intentions to make her situation any worse.

It honestly hadn’t been her fault though, when it happened. To be clear, it was actually very easily just pinned on Mito for liability of the incident. She _was_ , after all, the person who stumbled first, before shoving Miho down the hill in an attempt to reign in her balance.

Rolling through bramble, greenery, and anything else nature had to offer her, Miho crashed down quickly through the hill. Nicking herself on nearly every piece of rock that found her, she marveled in her dizzying daze of disorientation about the irony of Mito’s earlier words about being a protector.

The end came quickly after as she slammed right into a tree, knocking her head viciously against it as she stumbled in trying to understand what had just occurred. Her vision turned hazy as she struggled to kneel in place, her entire body throbbing in pain— _agony_.

“No, please,” she heard herself whisper as she gave up on moving and instead collapsed to the ground, panting while struggling to regain her breath. “C-Can’t…breathe…”

It took several minutes that felt like _hours_ to regain any sense of motion in her body but the most she could do was shift onto her stomach and look around where she laid.

It was enough.

In the time it took for her vision to clear up enough to see it, she was frozen—both in shock and confusion.

Right there, before her very eyes, stood a fox with hair as fiercely colored as her very own.

Miho turned silent, her chest burning when that made her hold what little breath she had.

There was just something so…commanding about it, and the ethereal quality of the mild lighting mingling with the sun-kissed fur left Miho near immovable. She blinked furiously as she noted the way it watched her back.

Its eyelids rolled sluggishly over the balls of its eyes as the fox fixed her with a lazy, unimpressed stare.

At a lost for word or reason, she found herself unconsciously moving closer to the wild beast. It was right then with a loud, trilling yelp that something—or _someone_ crashed into her.

“Ah! I found ya!” It was Mito’s unmistakable voice and Miho watched, with disappointment heavy in her gaze, as the fox quickly hopped out of sight.

Seeing such a beautiful creature leave before she even had the chance to look at it properly, paired with the blazing pain that covered her toe to the tip of her scalp, left her a dribbling mess. She was past thinking as exhaustion set in.

She began to heave out sobs.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, ‘ttebasa! Dattebasa, I’m sorry!” Mito cried out, assuredly panicked. “I’ll get you home, okay, ‘ttebasa? I’m sorry, dattebasa!”

**Promise to Keep**

“Huh.”

“W-What?” Miho’s delicate head bobbed up, slightly alarmed and disgruntled alike as she turned to gaze up at her new teacher. It hurt to move, as it had turned out that she’d dislocated her right arm, broken her left pinky somehow, and had sprained both of her ankles. As such, she was sorely behind in her studies as most of her teachers had taken one look at her before sending her back home. Not very many of them cared to be around the sopping mess she would become once the pain became too much to bear.

But her newest teacher had been different; he’d even offered to dress her wounds before they carried on with instructions.

“I was told, quite honestly, that you might be the worst at this,” the man said, eyeing her carefully.

She swallowed and looked down at the seal work she had just managed to do, and noted how soft it looked compared to the example piece she had learned from. The lines were too delicate, and the curves lack luster in comparison. Kiyoshi, her teacher, surely noted all this and was just as disappointed in her that she had come to expect.

“For a first timer,” he began, his gaze on her heavy in weight as he squinted at her face, “you are shaping up to be quite the sealer. I haven’t seen such talent in a long while, Miho-chan. Be sure to nurture it.”

His parting words were simple as he stood up from his crouch, turning his back easily to the girl whose face reddened in both shock and joy alike. Miho tried to call out, in order to properly thank him, but her throat constricted with heavy emotions and she bowed her face behind her long sleeves in fear of being found out.

Tears quickly found their way in coating the lashes of her eyes as she blinked the blinding wetness away.

It was right at that very second that she overheard Yuusei yelping in pain. She quickly turned to look and was nearly blindsided by the vision of Genta cramming his hands—folded in the tora sign—right up her cousin’s rear end.

Her eyes widened, her jaw going slack.

“Don’t talk about her like that!” Genta cried out, face red with anger before he burst out into snickers at the realization of his actions. The others around him reacted similarly while looking on.

Kiyoshi released a long drawn out sigh, “Boy, what did I tell ya ‘bout ‘at? No more ass-pokin’!”

“But he was saying mean things!” the redheaded child readily defended himself.

Their shared teacher gave him a long drawn out sigh, matched with an unrelenting stare, “And what about?”

Genta jumped in surprise at the sudden question, eyes sliding to look over at Miho before looking to his feet, “Nothin’, Sensei.”

Miho promptly blinked, brows furrowing as her thoughts formed a conclusion. For whatever reason, she could see that Yuusei had been talking bad about her again, and that Genta was only trying to stick up for her. On the other hand, she had no clue why he would be withholding such information if it were truthful.

Did he wish to spare her ill feelings?

Her heart warmed at the thought and she turned her head away from the scene in front of her as she looked back down at her seal work.

She smiled.

**Promise to Keep**

“How dare you touch Yuusei when you’re only an orphan!?” Kyu demanded to know, outraged by what Genta had done.

Yamamoto stepped forward, scowling with a hand placed roughly to her hip, “What gives you the right to talk to my boy that way, huh!?”

Mito growled besides her in agreement, glaring daggers at the side of village kids on Yuusei’s side of the argument.

“What’s it to you two?” Yuusei grumbled out. “Let us at him! He’s only getting what he deserves, after all. I was only speaking the truth when I said that Miho was useless.”

Her eyes twitched, but she looked to Genta, whose eyes widened in meeting her gaze before he looked nervously away.

Enough.

Through her head ran the million insults that had been tossed about around her, and the idea of all the people in her life that had defended her for the truth of what those vile words had been. Instead of learning from them, instead of changing like she had promised Hashirama, she had been hiding only behind excuses and the support group that had summon how stuck around throughout the years. But instead of feeling grateful, she felt ashamed. And instead of feeling anger, she felt in her being the _fury_ of having been wronged and having wronged someone else.

What a pathetic person she had grown to be!

Practically lazy, useless, and waste of air, Miho wasn’t the person she had envisioned herself becoming.

She was tired, in pain, and flustered beyond belief as she watched her friends and sister battle with the other kids in the village.

 _She_ was the cause of this.

In her body was a soul tired beyond belief of all the violence, all of the tears, and all of the stress.

She’d had _enough._

It was time to change before something bad happened—for good.

In her eyesight she watched as Yuusei lunged at Genta, but before anything could befall her benefactor, Miho launched herself at her cousin.

Grappling for control, she ignored all other pain in her body as she bit him violently in god only knows where. The metallic smell of blood filled the air as she released a high pitched shriek in absolute fury at what sort of person he had made her become in choosing violence.

She blinked, before releasing her hold as Miho looked down on the boy who had been her tormenter since a very small age. She felt only regret and sadness.

Miho shouldn’t have blamed it on him—her misdemeanors. 

It wasn’t in her, the ability to be an angry person.

To be clear, it was just _so_ very exhausting. So no, unlike what her family wanted of her, she could not become the violent, tyrannical personality that reigned so heavily in the people of her village.

She sighed, and fought off the grimace at tasting blood in her mouth before her vision cleared of haziness.

For the first time in a long while, she saw with a crystal clear gaze, “I’m sorry.”

Yuusei looked a mess, and it was her realization that she’d absolutely torn off a chunk of flesh from the meatier part of his forearm. Tears sprang up in his eyes before he released a violent sob, his chest heaving beneath her legs.

Miho panicked, “I’m sorry, ‘ttekisa! I’ll take you to the doctors, ‘ttekisa!”

“Woah,” someone exhaled behind her and she looked to see Yamamoto grinning. Nodding at her approvingly, the older girl gave an affirming sigh, “That settles it. You’ll be the oni in the game of Kagome, Kagome form now on.”

She was helpless as the others around her began to laugh.

But then…this was only just the start.

**Promise to Keep**

_Nine Years Later_

“My heart holds you!” Miho sang broadly into the room as her fingers slid elegantly over the strings of her koto. Plucking and pulling as she went on in the song, she felt the vibrations sink into the very tips of her fingers as they sent rush after rush of exhilarating pleasure through her senses. Not only was she playing an original piece, but for it to be such a close one to her made all the difference in her performance before the convoys and their wives.

“My heart holds the thought of you, in the meadow of a glowing blue,” she sang in time with the plucking of the strings beneath her hand, “ever did the sight of it feel so new, and with us in the morning dew…my heart will hang on tight even in cold, so relax, my love, in the night that I will hold.”

The breath in the room released all out in a whoosh as the last lingering notes in the air played, airborne as they thrummed softly to an appeasing end.

She lifted her hands and placed them softly in the small of her lap before she bowed before her audience in open gratitude.

Miho smiled confidently before speaking into the room, “Thank you for listening.”

 **Promise to Keep** **– End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References Explained:
> 
> Seiza Position – formal way of sitting, sitting with buttocks on the back of the heels that sit in a ‘v’ shape.
> 
> Tsume – the picks the play/strum a koto, this translates into nail. There are two types of tsume; ikuta and yamada. I went with the former, in this case, as it’s the most traditional form of tsume.
> 
> Furisode – is a style of kimono that is easily distinguishable by its long sleeves, which range in length from 85 cm (33.4 in) for a kofurisode (小振袖/little swinging sleeves) to 114 cm (44.9 in) for an ōfurisode (大振袖/big swinging sleeves).
> 
> Hakama – cloth that is tied at the waist and falls approximately to the ankles, typically worn over a kimono. Two types; divided (umanori) and undivided (andon bakama).


	4. Of Ages & Tall Tales

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having some problems with this chapter and sudden jibberish making its way through that isn't on any of the original docs. Just a heads up in case I missed any of them.

**Ｗｉｌｌ　ｏｆ　Ｆｉｒｅ**

_**Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ** _ _**4** _

_It’s all I have left in my aching heart,_

_A wish that, for the next life,_

_A flower blooms for you with a message,_

_To sing a song with a tale of heavy grief and rising strength._

**Of Ages & Tall Tales**

“Look, it’s her!”

Miho unconsciously ducked down when she heard the gossiping voices. Blush rising with force, she looked to Mito who stood right beside her. “No one ever _told_ me that it would be _this_ embarrassing, ‘ttekisa.”

“You’re a celebrity, what more can I say?” her sister replied with dryly.

“But we’re on a mission, so doesn’t this hurt our chances of completing it properly?” Miho worried, nervously balling up her fingers in fists as she looked down at the bandages that were wrapped around them.

“I’m not too concerned about it. Most everyone probably thinks you’re just here to perform.”

“Ah!” Her face lit up even brighter as she looked around guiltily, “I should disguise myself, shouldn’t I, ‘ttekisa?”

“Miho?”

“What?”

Mito flicked her sister in the forehead, causing the other girl to reel back with a pinched expression.

“You know how much stuff like that hurts!” Miho released a small grunt before scowling at her twin.

“Look, just _calm_ down. I know it’s your first big mission away from home but this isn’t a very important one in the big scheme of things. Tou-san may be getting too cocky lately but he isn’t stupid—not when it comes to the breadwinner of our family.”

Miho nodded, but flushed even darker at her sister’s words before she nudged the older girl with her elbow. “Where are we going anyway? We’re all the way in the capital and you _still_ haven’t told me.”

They’d crossed both sea and mountains to come to their current destination, catching an eye on all of the current villages and clans as they stood. It was strange to be away from Uzushio, and even now she heard the ringing of the sea in her ears.

The sad thing was that all of the amazing sights she had just come across on their shared journey may not even be there on their return trip. As Mito had put it—being the one with a vaster knowledge of shinobi politics—villages tended to burst up as quickly as they grew to be deserted when resources were ran down or even if they suffered the wrath of quick to anger shinobi and kunoichi crossing over.

It had all been making Miho _very_ thankful that not only did they have an alliance with the Senju clan, but that she was well known for her trade in music. Much to her conflicted feelings, she noted that when people and the world were sad together, it tended to bring about a creative nature in the human life around. They enjoyed the little things more, and it just so happened that she got to be one of those people who brought the joy.

But it never did change the way she felt when she would see a stray poster with her face on it.

Face flushing, she quickly walked up to the wall with a clutter of promotional images, before snatching the one she specifically recognized as herself.

“What is this?” Miho turned to Mito, who looked guiltily down at her feet. “’Come to the Magnolia Tea House in the red lamp district for a once in a life time performance by Miho Uzumaki.’ This is for a Geisha’s house, why is this for a Geisha’s house?”

“Tou-san is the one who set it up! It’s a part of our mission. You know how he is, he doesn’t know jack about the work you do other than the music you produce. I doubt that man even knows what a tea house is, ‘ttebasa!” Mito huffed out before stomping her feet to the ground, “I _tried_ to get him to stop but he said it was the best thing for the mission.”

Miho turned pale as she looked down at the illustrated depiction of her in a particularly disheveled appearance. “Shishou will not be pleased with me.”

“That crone can stick a can to it,” Mito bit out bitterly, arms coming to be crossed.

She rolled her eyes at her sister’s current distaste for Hayami, “Explain, Mito. What is this mission?”

Grunting, the older girl looked distinctly around where they stood before reaching out a hand to fix a hold on her twin. At the last second she checked her strength as she gently came to grasp Miho’s hand.

Together, they made their way to a dim, quiet alleyway, passing by rowdy children on their way. Miho couldn’t help but ruffle the hair of a certain orange haired boy as she thought of Genta back home. She smiled to herself absentmindedly.

Mito snapped her fingers in front of Miho before muttering, “Do you want to know or not?”

“I do, ‘ttekisa!”

“Well it’s a pretty simple one, but being as it’s still your first one this far from home, Tou-san and I decided on only telling you when we got to the capital.”

As much as it stung to know that her family had gone specifically behind her back, she placed a hand to her hip and impatiently demanded, “Out with it already, ‘ttekisa!”

“Fine, ‘ttebasa! It’s a stupid intel gathering mission where you act as a performing musician to extract information from a man who is the evilest of evil people! If anything were to happen to you though, I would be the one to take your place and to fight him off while you escape, got it?” Miho nodded, absolutely dumbfounded. “Good because I’m not saying that again, ‘ttebasa.”

“Uh, but…who _is_ this evil person?”

“Er, it’s Tajima Uchiha.”

Miho instantly felt faint as she brought her hand up to her face, “Oh no.”

“But don’t worry! Tou-san sent out a rumor that you up and renounced your Uzumaki heritage, so it can be easier for you to chat him up.”

“ _What!?_ ” Miho roared out as loud as she dared to before hissing out her next words, “Why is this mission suddenly so life changing when all you’ve been saying was how easy it would be?”

“Oh, come on, ‘ttebasa! You know that since it’s only a rumor nothing will be taken as fact. Now, are you chickening out or are you gonna do it? Because if I have to play the koto, I will most likely break all of the strings.”

Miho winced at the growing headache that began to pound against her skull. With a finger brought to pinch the bridge of her nose, she reluctantly nodded.

“I guess I have to now. But Tajima? Really?”

“Kaa-san did always say that if we don’t enter the tiger’s cave, then we won’t catch the cub!”

“But I want nothing to do with _his_ cub, ‘ttekisa! I’ve heard things about that man and his sons.”

“Well, now you’ll get to hear more things!”

Miho winced but gave in, nodding, “So, come on already and tell me the _rest_ of plan. Don’t spare any details.”

**Of Ages & Tall Tales**

“Can we leave?” Miho asked Mito as she trembled in the shinning kimono she had been dressed so extravagantly with. On her face was the sort of makeup Hayami _despised_ on women, never the type to dirty herself with a bird’s feces or to darken her teeth with coal. If her teacher were to see her now, how priceless that reaction would be!

To add to it, she felt similar to a plucked chicken with her eyebrows having made a disappearance and a charcoal pen taking its place. Her leg, arm, and pit hair had all been threaded away by a woman with a rather strong grip and with no patience with the tears that Miho had worked hard to keep at bay.

Her skin burned with the sensations.

“This is the life of a Geisha, the very same lifestyle you get for running away, young lady, ‘ttebasa,” Mito joked.

Miho rolled her eyes but continued to bunch up her fists before spreading them over the fine material. She hoped her stomach would ease itself of nerves soon.

“I hope I do well,” she whispered, meeting her sister’s as she watched them soften.

“No worries then,” Mito replied, coming closer as she brought her hand to the back of Miho’s neck. Locking their eyes, she continued to speak, “I am with you, and you are with me. It’s always been that way, and it always will. If we fail, we fail as one.”

Miho breathed easily after that and nodded slowly, “Thank you, Mi-chan.”

“Any time, ‘ttebasa!” Mito grinned broadly before pulling back, hand quickly going to her left hip as she tutted her chin out towards the door. “Now get out there and get your cub.”

“Yes, dattekisa!” Miho animatedly said, regaining her excitement from earlier in their journey to the capital.

At the very least, she was going to do her very best.

**Of Ages & Tall Tales**

This was her chance, she decided, coming off the high that went hand in hand with the koto. Her cheeks were flushed beneath the makeup but not a thing was amiss in her appearance as she made her way to where she’d spotted her target earlier.

It had been a bit weird when realizing that an Uchiha of all people had gone to the liberty of visiting a Geisha’s house but then, if she thought about it, her father often went to them when he needed to discuss something privately with others. Geisha were notorious for the amount of secrets they knew, but kept to the very day they died.

Shyly, she bowed in front of Tajima and noted the people that surrounded him. A man about her age, and someone that she couldn’t even begin to pinpoint on why he looked so utterly familiar. They spoke quietly, in hushed, soft voices that halted just as soon as her shadow befell them.

“Am I overstepping?” Miho asked with all the softness of a ball of mochi.

The men exchanged glances before her target—Tajima—shook his head.

“Of course not, please have a seat.”

Miho bowed her thanks before carefully and gracefully folding herself into her usual seiza position, finding peace in familiarity.

She held up her long sleeves as she concealed her coal covered teeth before daring to speak, “I apologize for intruding, but I saw that your table was unattended by a Geisha.”

“Ah, just when I was thinking that we’d go ignored,” joked the man her age. He smiled cheerfully at her, striking her as bizarre and out of nowhere. He looked to be an Uchiha, just like Tajima, and all the stories she’d heard of them had always been about how stoic and cold they were in nature. He was different, feeling at ease.

Miho laughed gamely at the weak joke before settling herself in for an introduction, “It’s a pleasure to meet you three. My name is Miho Uzu—,” Miho swallowed as she remembered herself, “Ah, just Miho, if you please.”

“You’d think by now you wouldn’t need to say your name to strangers anymore,” Tajima started with dryly, “what with your face being known by most anyone who’s ever cared for music and entertainment.”

Her cheeks burned radiantly beneath the white substance coating her skin, “You know me?”

As much as she’d like to confidently say otherwise, it was a shock to her system in finding that the very person she would have to somehow wrangle information out of knew her as if she were just as well renowned as he was.

“One would have to be blind not too,” said the familiar looking man to Tajima’s left. His tone was like stone against stone in her ears and she held back a wince.

Instead, she steered the conversation away from herself in the way she had recently been getting really good at.

“Would any of you like something to drink?”

“I sure would,” the youngest one said, absolutely grinning by this point.

“Don’t mind Izuna,” Tajima interjected, “we’re putting him on prohibition so only tea for him. But Kenjiro and I would like the finest drink you have to offer.”

In her head clicked the dots of name and background as her eyes lingered on Izuna for a few seconds more before she nodded, swiftly rising from the soft pillow on the floor as she went to dutifully gather the cups, bottles, and a piping hot kettle of tea.

As soon as she arrived back at the Uchiha’s table, a notable air of danger exuded from them as she watched the way the other clients and Geisha breezed by them as if nonchalantly acting as if they didn’t exist for sake of them living to see another day.

Ignoring the touch of fear she felt herself, she laid the tray down on the table and gave them each a sweet smile.

Tajima promptly took the biggest bottle of alcohol and took a cup, pouring its content into as he quickly offered it up.

“Humor me and drink up first.”

Caught off guard, she blinked down at the cup before numbly reaching to receive it. Hesitantly she sipped at it before wincing at the taste of it, “It’s so strong.” She didn’t dare try to drink the entire thing at once, but at his expectant gaze and his tipping up hand gesture, Miho braced herself before bringing the cup to her lips and downing the entire contents in one go.

Near to instantly, she slammed the cup to the table and found herself coughing uncontrollably in response to the way the liquor burned down her throat and settled itself into her stomach. She felt overheated and loathed how close the tears were to tipping over.

“Didn’t think she’d actually do it,” Izuna muttered somewhere in her peripheral, “What an idiot.”

She sure felt like one too.

“Now I recall,” Kenjiro suddenly spoke up again, “that she is the twin with the weak constitution.”

By this point, she felt like she’d hacked up a lung but before it could go any farther, she ruthlessly pounded at her chest to stop the coughing and quickly wiped the tears away before they could dribble over and tamper with the makeup.

Izuna offered her a new glass, looking to be the steaming tea from the kettle. Grateful, she took a sip of it and winced when her lips got burned.

What a _terrible_ first impression she had just made.

 

Fighting past the pain and misery, Miho summoned up the ability to sheepishly smile, “I…am not the best with alcohol.”

“We can see that,” Izuna agreed, smiling gamely.

“You’re performance was very becoming, Miho-san,” Tajima diplomatically said, voice and expression calm as he artfully steered the conversation.

“Thank you,” Miho honestly answered, genuinely grinning without being aware as her cheeks heated up from the praise.

“I heard something quite interesting about you,” the Uchiha man went on, and it was then that Miho felt the power and strength exude off of his body. Sweat perspired on her brow before she nodded for him to go on. “One, is that you sing and play like a goddess out of some sort of folklore story. Two, is that you have forsaken your family name. Both of these things are quite interesting to hear, given your ties with a certain clan we both know very well.”

She was at a loss for words, her lips sliding open before they closed into a thin line, “I don’t like to talk about it, but yes.” Nervously, she gripped a piece of her kimono in her fists, looking down at her bared skin. Did he want to have information about the Senju clan? But then why did he bring up her trade?

Her head grew to be rather dizzy as she blinked at him lazily. It was the alcohol setting in and taking her by storm. She’d never tested her limits before but it would make an ironic twist of sense for her to be a lightweight like her sister joked about.

“Are you alright?” Izuna asked, quizative eyes on her as she turned a droopy faced expression in his direction.

“I’m fine,” she mumbled, even as she felt as if the world were spinning in her vision. When she swayed, it was almost like her entire body was somehow misplaced. She brought her cool hand to her cheeks as she attempted to calm down. “I believe I’m just a bit drunk…as embarrassing as it is to say.”

There goes her first failed mission, right?

How her father decided to trust her with this was beyond her ability to comprehend at that moment as she inwardly mourned her reputation in the clan.

“Don’t tell me you’re a sad drunk, Mito-chan,” Izuna teased, noting her downtrodden expression.

“It would make sense,” Kenjiro spoke up, “I recall her being the one that never ceased crying.”

Miho blinked, “Oh. I know who you are now…you’re the convoy from the Fire Daimyo that used to come with Chi-chan in the winter time.”

But then he’d stopped showing up sometime five years ago when news came that his wife had died in a village raid. Although, she never did know what had happened to his daughter, Chinatsu.

By way of his tight, unreadable expression, it was probably best not to ask.

Miho blinked suddenly when a jolt went through her thigh. It wasn’t painful, just a bit alarming as it was intended to be. She felt the draw on her chakra as she felt the seal dissipate.

Times up.

Bowing lowly, even as she felt terribly dizzy, Miho murmured to them softly, “I must leave now. I have to get to my next performance.”

“Woah, where’s it going to be?” Izuna asked, crossing his arms, “Maybe we’ll follow you.”

Her cheeks flamed as she could only speak with whatever came to mind at that moment, “It’s a _private_ performance.”

His brows shot up and her own eyes widened at what sort of implications words like that would leave.

“I’ve been requested to play at a child’s birthday party, and,” she leaned forward unconsciously when her daze came to be too much. She met Izuna’s gaze, licking her lips before saying her dismissing line, “no adults are allowed.”

With that, she bowed once more and as gracefully as she could, Miho stood up and fled the scene.

**Of Ages & Tall Tales**

Miho exhaled slowly as she laid on her back on the futon in the inn they had decided to stay in.

“It couldn’t have been _that_ bad,” Mito spoke nonchalantly as she rubbed at Miho’s upset stomach.

“You weren’t exactly there,” she reminded her dryly.

“No worries, it’s still a miracle that you managed to get close enough to get drunk,” Mito responded with smoothly, smiling confidently, “Tou-san was right in choosing you after all!”

Her innards slowly settled as she breathed out once more, “But what are we going to do? I wasn’t able to schedule another meet up time like we wanted…”

“Miho, I’ll only say this once, okay, ‘ttebasa? The Uchiha clan is one where its members are especially tricky. One second you’ll think you have them and in the next they’ve already got a kunai to your throat! But it’s not just that, they have their kekkei genkai, which makes them super dangerous! It’s a miracle in and of itself that you aren’t dead yet with the way you left them so suddenly yesterday.” Mito flicked the skin on her bared stomach, causing Miho to wince. “Someone like you is no match for them in a fight…but, you’re the only one of us that is sweet enough to break through any tough guy act.”

Her face burned at the high praise, “Mito, what are you even saying? You’re even kinder than I am! Look, you’re even rubbing my tummy…and you are also the one who’s always kept me safe. You’re kind of cool in the way a guy would be when you’re fighting, but you somehow keep on looking prettier every day to the point that all the boys have been noticing you.”

Mito guffawed roughly, pulling away as she clung to her stomach when she was suddenly launched into an uncontrollable laughing fit.

Miho blinked, cheeks heating up even further as she felt both flustered and embarrassed. But this usually happened when she spoke her mind; things sounding stupid the moment they left her lips even if it sounded so nice in her head.

“That’s priceless, dattebasa!” Mito inhaled roughly, choking on her own laughter a she wiped away tears. “Coming from the person with a literal fanclub of boys back in Uzushio.”

“It’s not a fanclub!” Miho insisted, feeling as if her entire body was ten degrees hotter.

“But you _still_ need to keep Genta-kun as you’re boyfriend to ward everyone else away, which is really strange, y’know. _I_ don’t have to do that.”

“I—I—I was scared because men are scary and I’m used to Genta!” Miho defended, quivering with mortification at the truth.

Mito shook her head in quiet amazement, “Some things never change do they?”

“Not with an attitude like that, they won’t,” Miho replied with, grounding herself in the words of one of the only people that she actually considered to be a treasure. Hashirama would have been so proud, had he even taken the time to see her this year.

But he did promise her that it would be soon.

If she were being honest, she would even go as far as to say that she ached for the day that she got to hug him.

Her face brightened.

“Oho! Thinking about your other boy toy, are you?” Mito said, shinning with glee, “I still find it so funny that you could possibly find such a dork attractive. I mean, what was _up_ with that haircut when we were kids?”

“He was cute, ‘ttkisa!” Miho readily defended him, albeit unconsciously as she got lost in thought. She sighed miserably before she grumbled out her next words, “But I already know it won’t happen…treating me like a little sister and all.”

“Well, he’s a special sort of idiot, ‘ttebasa.”

Miho giggled, nodding, “Pretty much, ‘ttekisa.”

“Now,” Mito started, same tone she usually used once a conversation piece had been spent, “what’s for dinner?”

**Of Ages & Tall Tales**

“Look, look! There’s your chance, ‘ttebasa!” Mito hissed out excitedly, she prodded at Miho’s back to move forward as the younger twin awkwardly looked around for whatever the hell Mito was on about now.

She turned around to ask but scowled when she came to see that her sister had merely skipped out with little to no explanation. But it was just the sort of thing she’d come to expect out of her other half.

“Oh, it’s you again, Miho-chan!” Izuna’s familiar voice suddenly said shockingly close to her ear, paired up with a hand that reached out to touch her shoulder. His fingers brushed over a slim part of her bared skin, inciting a red face of embarrassment when she let out a soft mewling sound of surprise.

“Uchiha-san!” Miho yelped out, instinctively bringing up her long sleeve to cover her lower face. She met his gaze and noted the deep bags that appeared under his eyes. “You don’t look very well…”

He smiled, shrugging before slowly sliding his fingers away from her, “I haven’t gotten much sleep lately.”

“That’s terrible,” Miho managed to get out after shivering from the contact just made. Grumbling under her breath, she cursed her usual high sensitivity before adjusting the collar of her furisode kimono. “I used to have nightmares myself, so I can definitely understand, Uchiha-san.”

And she could too.

Even now she had entire weeks where she would survive purely off an hour or two of sleep that only seemed to add more to her exhaustion.

As he opened his mouth to reply, her eyes widened when a stroke of genius hit her, “I have a blend of tea that puts me right to sleep when I have such issues. How about joining me later this afternoon, Uchiha-san?”

Izuna outright laughed, causing her to blush even harder. Her excitement deflated as he got around to saying, “So we didn’t scare you off last night? I was so sure you’d never want to see our ugly mugs again. Especially because I heard how long you Uzumaki hold grudges.”

Miho couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled forth, “I’ve lived my life around the life of a kunoichi. I may not be the biggest fan of it, but I can at least handle my fair share of paranoid shinobi. And…as for the grudge thing, the tea I have is particularly bitter and I just ran out of sweeteners.”

He snorted, smirking, “You know, I was just going to play with you for a bit but you’re actually pretty interesting.”

“I could say the exact same to you,” Miho responded, the rare tinge of sass coating her words. Behind her sleeve, she grinned, “I’m staying in the inn by the central park. I have an errand to run, but please come and visit me sometime soon.”

With that, she bowed lowly before setting off to find wherever the hell Mito had escaped off to.

She found her soon enough, hiding lamely behind a box of crates talking with a trio of children.

“But I’m not her, you see, ‘ttebasa? I only look like the pretty princess you saw yesterday,” Mito was saying, looking pathetic in her attempts to dismiss the kids.

“Don’t lie! Kaa-san says liars die quickly, so don’t lie,” screeched a blonde boy as he pulled at her weapon holster.

“Woah, that’s dangerous, ‘ttebasa!” Mito shouted, looking to nearly have a heartattack when a shuriken almost slipped out.

“Ah, what sort of fun party is going on here?” Miho asked, deciding to save her sister before they ended up having to skip town due to some kid nicking himself and spreading a big deal about it.

In central, she was slowly starting figure out, you never did know who you would meet.

Although they didn’t look it, one of them could possibly even be some daimyo’s kid.

A black haired boy turned to look at her first, “Double!”

Miho laughed openly, “Twins! That’s the word.”

They all turned to stare up at her, mouth opening up before going slack.

She cocked her head to the side, curious at the sudden change, “Hello?”

“You’re so pretty!” The blonde boy shouted persistently, coming to grab out her sleeve.

“Thank you very much,” she murmured, “you’re quite handsome yourself!”

He absolutely glowed in response.

“Nuh-uh! He has buck teeth,” a girl shouted, making a face.

“Oh? But that’s only an added charm! I find him very cute,” Miho went on, kneeling down to get on eye level with the three of them. Ruffling the blonde boy’s hair, she smiled broadly. “My, what a bunch of pretty children. Your parents must be so proud!”

“So I’m pretty to you too?” the girl asked, flushing a brighter color. She self-consciously patted at her auburn hair, a color that distinctively reminded her of home.

“Of course,” Miho whispered softly, reaching with her other hand to stroke the young girl’s hair, “such a pretty color.”

Nervously, in a shy manner as he shivered in delight, the blonde spoke up, “My n-name is Daisuke! She’s Yukina, and he’s Ichiro! So, w-what’s your name, pretty lady?”

“My name is Miho, and this other pretty lady is my sister, Mito.”

In her newly secluded corner, Mito grimaced.

“She’s not as pretty as you are,” Ichiro commented, looking back and forth, “because you look softer.”

Miho blinked, having never really been described in such a manner. 

Mito snorted.

Quickly recovering, she giggled.

“Well, uh, see you kids around,” Mito spoke up, eyes gleaming, “we have to go take care of something.”

Miho nodded, feeling a bit sad when their looked up with crestfallen expressions. “Let’s see each other soon, okay?”

“Yeah!” Yukina cried out, “Soon!”

With that, Miho waved goodbye as they walked away from their corner. Eyes focusing on the children, she didn’t even notice when she stumbled into someone as she walked forward.

She gasped, immediately apologizing while rubbing her nose as she met onyx colored eyes, matched with a particularly wild hairstyle that was colored black.

The man stared at her, looking and feeling emotionless, albeit with similarly tired eyes to Izuna. She blinked before noting how the comparison called for more inspection once her eyes locked on the glaring clan symbol on his black kimono.

She went pale as she reeled back to bow lowly.

Wordlessly, his massive presence passed by her, but even as he left her vicinity she couldn’t help the feeling that he’d just stared right into the pit of her very soul.

She looked at Mito, who stood solid, caught looking close to a statue.

“Mito?” She tried, suddenly feeling her stomach sink.

“Uchiha…Ma-Madara,” Mito managed to get out, looking pale. “Hashirama-kun told me about him, even had a picture with him. I-I just—that killer intent was crazy! How are you still standing!?”

“What?” Miho asked, confused, “But I only felt his warmth.”

Mito looked at her as if she were crazy, shaking her head, “Whatever you say, Mi-chan. All I know is that it’s best for you, and _I_ to stay as far away as possible.”

**Of Ages & Tall Tales – End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References Explained:
> 
> 虎穴に入らずんば虎子を得ず (koketsuni irazunba koji o ezu) – This is a Japanese proverb that translates most commonly into ‘If you do not enter the tiger’s cave, you will not catch its cub’. Basically a ‘nothing ventured, nothing gained’ kind of saying.
> 
> Review please, they keep me motivated to work harder!


	5. Sweet Spot

 

**Ｗｉｌｌ　ｏｆ　Ｆｉｒｅ**

**_Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ_   _5_**

_Once upon a time there was a girl who felt the world in her heart._

_But then he decided to take the other half of it._

**Sweet Spot**

“Sink like the stone in a vast pond,” Miho murmured softly to herself, “and don’t make trouble for others.”

Slapping a splash of cool water against her skin, Miho sighed into the night as she fought to relax her body. Softly humming to herself, she couldn’t help but feel a buzzing in her very veins about the newest developments in her mission—she was even astounding herself!—yet she could not bare to let her guard down.

It had been this way for the past week as she made efforts to see that she met up with Izuna for at least a few seconds of the day.

So far, he seemed to have a rather nice impression of her, if the way his invitation to a tea ceremony was of any indication.

Miho had been giddy to accept, because it had been only of the rarest occasions that she was on the other side of a tea ceremony. She had been trained to entertain, after all, and her education on geisha matters and general etiquette had been only the best.

It seemed unreal to her, as she let the information sink in.

Her mission was going so well—much better than she had expected of herself—and she rather thought it would only be a matter of time when she got to lay her eyes on the breathtaking sight of her true. Dreamily, she sighed into the cloth she held up to her face in hopes of drying off. Miho couldn’t help it when she thought about all of her friends.

She was antsy to know how her “beloved” Genta was fairing not that she was gone. She hoped he could feel her absence the way she felt his.

There was just nothing like getting to rest side by side in the backyard of her home after a full meal. Even know, she could miss the warmth his presence contained and could still hear his odd, quaint jokes flitting through the air as if he were only mere seconds away from being close enough to embrace.

Mito often liked to tease her about it, after recognizing Miho’s crush for a certain Senju, and was quick to point out that half the village thought of them as engaged to be.

Very little people could understand the relationship they had—she had enough trouble comprehending it herself—but Genta had been a steady, solid presence in her life. A constant she was sore to live without.

Pouting against her cloth, Miho sighed into it for a now entirely different reason.

She missed her clan.

After all, Mito was long gone by now after the initial three days she had been there to watch over her.

Miho was alone to her thoughts, when she heard the shuffling of grass behind her.

She whipped around to face the mysterious presence, put off by the lack of chakra she felt in the air.

Then, her brows rose as she regarded the intruder curiously, “Hello?”

A small boy, looking only to be at least in his early teens—probably thirteen—stared up at her with wide, dark eyes. His skin a milky white, it took Miho just a few seconds more to recognize the symbol on his clothes. He even had the silky black, raven hair that she had come to relate to the clan genetics.

An Uchiha.

“Hello.” Miho repeated, this time feeling sure in her voice and actions.

The young boy swallowed thickly, “It’s really you, isn’t it?”

She cocked her head to the side in question, wondering if she was actually who he was implying she was.

At the silence in the air, the boy seemed to grow an odd sense of courage before he bowed lowly, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miho-sama! My father speaks really highly of your talents!”

Miho blinked rapidly in response to the way he called her, and her cheeks flooded with heat at the idea of being talked about. It was an odd feeling, knowing that people probably discussed her in all sorts of ways.

After all, her popularity had obviously proceeded her upon her arrival to the capital.

Regardless of that, however, she flushed heavily and lifted her sleeve up to cover up her lower face before she deftly slipped her cloth in the slit of fabric that hung off her wrist.

“I’m honored,” she answered, unable to stop herself from bowing in response even if it was a little strange on her part to do. “I didn’t expect to have any fans in such a distinct clan…”

The boy looked flustered before shyly shaking his head, “Ah, we’re not anything like the elders or head of the clan…my dad is only the servant under them…b-but you’re actually really popular with the men of my clan!” he looked eager to please as he said this, blinking rapidly as if afraid to offend her.

She could not help but chuckle, “Forgive me for not asking until now, but what is your name?”

The kid looked at her with a mixture of emotions then before coming to stand with his hands placed expertly at his back, “My name is Ryota Uchiha.” He looked proud of his name, and it was clear to see why.

“Strong? I like it,” Miho murmured, before completely straightening herself, “Well, Ryota-kun, would you mind walking me back home? I think I’d love the company.”

“S-Sure!”

How fresh for an Uchiha to be so obviously shy—it was quite the difference indeed.

**Sweet Spot**

She weakly moaned against the pain in her pounding skull as she lounged on the edge of her bed. Miho was both cold and agitated at that moment. It was hard not to be, really. Miho knew it was typical of her to get a cold the day of big performance but today was ultimately different from most days.

Today she would either be cast into a den of figurative wolves that would then lead to her untimely demise, or she would be able to pretend that she was also a wolf, and perhaps integrate herself into the pack.

One could only hope for the latter.

Either way, Miho felt ill as she left the comfort of the futon she had been sleeping on for the past weeks, and staggered he way over to the reflective mirror to asses her image. Years of overhearing gossip and chatter had left her sensitive to it, as after all she was still an impressionable young girl. They often said her skin could look too red, or that her eyes were too small for her oval face. They also liked to make fun of the mostly unnoticeable smatter of freckles across her nose that could be seen only upon closer inspection.

She had always felt uncomfortable being talked about in such a matter but had long since gotten used to it since she was the meager age of twelve and older men had been looking down on her as if she were just some piece of meat that tempted them.

Miho sighed, looking at the mirror and felt just as awful as she looked, noting how insipid her skin was. The sharp contrast of her vermillion hair to her pale pallor made it particularly obvious as well. Miho fibbed over the style of her long, wavy locks before pulling it into her hands to braid.

The dinner was scheduled for later that day, and Ryota—at her inquiry—would be by to pick her up soon but she’d wasted too much time lying about.

Kimono usually took a lengthy amount of time to put on properly, and with a sigh she looked to the sad stand she had set up with an elegantly designed uchikake kimono. She eyed the deep red of the fabric and gave an inquiring gaze as she thought of her choices.

Uchikake were mostly worn for weddings, but Miho was without a large quantity of her usual stage outfits and had brought it by mistake. She was hanging on the hope that they would take it as usual formal stage wear.

Plus, she figured that the brazen, yet elegant design of white birds in flight would take away from the ill look she had going for her.

With one last wistful look at her planned outfit, she went off to locate her makeup, discovering her sore need for assistance when she realized she was on her own for the struggle of looking presentable.

Not willing to waste any more time than she already had, Miho quickly set to work on her face and made sure to cover up the freckles on her cheeks with only a little bit of hesitance. Brush in hand, she dipped it into the white face powder before mixing it into the cup of water she had gathered hours before.

Quickly, she covered her skin in the paste and proceeded to let it dry before taking a new brush and dipping it into the rouge made primarily from safflowers. Miho expertly highlighted her cheekbones with the blush, before covering her lips and nails. For her eyes, she used the dust of coal to line her eyes in black before again reaching for the noticeably redder brush in hand to accentuate the curve of the soft flesh at her eyelids.

Miho fought off a frown when she was finally finished before looking at the uchikake. In obvious dissatisfaction, she looked out the window to see the setting sun. Any minute now, Ryota would probably be by to take her to the Uchiha clan district.

She knew it would be quite a walk, too, as it was obvious as time passed that the Uchiha clan homes were in a far more rural area, set away from civilians and other shinobi clans. She only hoped her clothes weren’t worn in dirt by the time she arrived. Oh, and that her makeup wasn’t completely washed away with sweat.

With a ginger, soft sigh, Miho settled into her fate before reaching to pluck the uchikake off of its stand.

It took her far longer than she would have liked to even get her arms through the sleeves, and felt only a teeny tiny bit relieved that she had put on the proper undergarments beforehand.

Just as she was about to properly adjust the way the fabric folded around her waist, a knock came at the door.

“Ryota-kun?” Miho called out, hurriedly squishing away any trace of negative emotions as she forgot her tasks and quickly went forward to open the door. She gave an honest grin at the sight of the flushing Uchiha, who had obviously made his way very quickly to her as he sucked in for breath.

She fought off the urge to embrace him as she noticed the way he gave her a once over.

His eyes were wide, jaw going slack when he took in the sight of her. Obviously speechless, Miho decided to take just a hint of satisfaction from it, as she shushed the voiced doubts in here head.

“Ryota-kun, have you been well?” Miho asked, before ushering the boy. He was silent as she went on, “Ah, at least it looks like it. You know,” she started, sliding a coy glance his way, “I’m really glad you’ve come to fetch me. But, as you can see, I’m not completely ready. Can you help me with the arrangement of my coats?”

The Uchiha seemed to choke up at her question, cheeks becoming flush before he gave a firm, obvious nod.

“I don’t know how to do it though,” he mumbled out awkwardly as he drew in closer.

“It’s okay, I can teach you,” she replied, voice soft as she thought. She went to stand before the full length mirror in the inn’s room, turning around as she peered over shoulder to see her back. “Okay, you see the fold that’s on my left? Grab it and turn it up.”

Ryota quickly did as told, and the instructions carried on before Miho considered the arrangement to be perfect, in even the tiniest of details. The Uchiha boy looked both proud of his efforts, and altogether exhausted at what he had just been through.

“You’re really fast with your hands,” Miho commented, “Are you in training for shinobihood?”

He quickly nodded, “Of course. I’m the best in my age group with bukijutsu, too.”

Miho held up her sleeve before releasing a soft laugh, “That’s far better than I will ever be, then. I’ve always had terrible luck in handling kunai, and shuriken left my hands covered in nicks and blood after training.”

Ryota looked thoughtful as he gazed at her quizatively, “Are you good at anything else?”

She smiled, promptly ushering him out the door before murmuring, “I’ll tell you as we make our way back to your home.”

**Sweet Spot**

The Uchiha clan homes looked just as cold on the exterior as she often saw on the large majority of clan members. The architecture was dignified as it stood tall, looming almost. With dark wood making up the infrastructure, rounded windows made themselves known as if they were the ever watchful eyes of the clan head himself.

Miho shivered, noting the distinctive lack of color in the greens around them as she looked to see if she could find even a hint of a flower blooming. Instead, all she saw was a particularly well maintained stone garden that only used bamboo and other distinctive plants to decorate with.

She ached for Uzushio even more so then, taking in the sight before looking to see Ryota assessing her reactions.

“It’d be nice if there were a flower garden here,” she commented honestly, “but this place is indeed very beautiful.”

He smiled in response, “I agree, but some of our members have allergies to pollen.”

“Ah,” she nodded in understanding, “makes sense.”

“This way, Miho-sama,” Ryota gestured, walking forward on a stone path as she followed after quickly, careful of the edges of her kimono. More than once on their trek to reach the place, Miho had taken to hitching it up her legs and ignoring the flushes of red on the young boy’s face. But here was not the place for it—she could feel the eyes on her skin already.

Attempting to calm her pulse, Miho swallowed and kept her view on the back of Ryota, taking comfort in his presence.

He led her into the house before taking her down a hallway where she could already hear sounds of talking, muffled laughter, and she could distinctly smell alcohol in the air.

Ryota stopped at a specific door, sliding it open quietly as he gestured her inside.

It was there that she could spot the koto, a red embroidered pillow, and an arrangement of candles she was sure would make her face glow. Wonderful.

She only hoped her makeup hadn’t rubbed off, and she quickly adjusted the sight of her hair as she pulled it up into a bun. It wasn’t the greatest style, and was what ultimately set her apart from the illustrious hairstyles of geisha, but it was comfortable.

Only, Ryota stuck his hand in her hair just as she had seated herself delicately on the pillow. He quickly undid her bun, and then picked apart her braid of before as he neatly arranged her long red locks to spread around her. Miho glanced up at him curiously.

“You’re prettiest when your hair is down,” he commented defensively as his cheeks turned red for the umpteenth time that day.

She smiled, nodding, before turning to her koto. With her head down, she murmured softly to the leaving boy, “Thank you.”

As she was left alone in that room, in front of the sliding doors that disconnected what would ultimately be a large, rectangle room, Miho stared down at her red nails and then at her koto.

Knowing she’d have no time to rehearse due to her slow arrival, Miho thought of a quick list of music she would play. It was only when deciding the last song of her performance that she heard the doors sliding apart, as it revealed her presence to her audience.

Dark eyes met hers, and she took only a deep breath in before feeling herself release the melody she had created on a bright day a long time ago.

_“Going over thousands of nights,_

_This red thread will be tied_

_Until my body perishes,_

_Until my life disappears,_

_I shall keep on cherishing this love.”_

She sang in that clear voice of hers, the lyrics of a love song that even she barely could understand. Her fingers stroked and pulled at the strings of the koto instrument as she accentuated the melody with harmonious notes to tie in the stories she told with her music.

For a straight hour, Miho dutifully played for her audience and took proper joy from the reactions they had. Despite the usual front most Uchiha had, Miho could see the open smiles and tears. She took pride in these responses, and thanked the heavens for the sake and other alcohol that had aided her.

Otherwise, she doubted she would have had the courage to agree to the invitation she received upon ending her performance.

“Miho-chan,” Izuna had called to her from his seat at the front table. She had flushed brightly at the close way he regarded her, but she looked to him as calmly as she possibly could, “come sit beside me.”

She noted the way it was worded much more like a command as she obeyed, rising from her spot at the pillow and moving to sit at the freshly cleared spot. Miho lifted up the sleeve of her kimono as she hid her lower face before turning to look directly at Izuna.

“It’s so nice to see you again, Uchiha-san,” she murmured coolly, hiding the wince she wanted to release at remembering the way she had choked in front of him. Miho tried to shake off the embarrassment but failed as the scene replayed in her head.

It was _not_ nice to see him again, but she couldn’t say that. Otherwise, her mission might as well be over.

“With that kimono on, I’m left wondering,” Izuna started with, peering into her eyes deeply, “did you wear it because it’s so _nice_ to see me that you wanted to propose we get engaged?”

Miho blinked rapidly at the sudden question and wondered dumbly about where the hell that had come from.

He couldn’t be serious.

With narrowing eyes, she leaned in closer so as to softly whisper by his ear, “My apologies, but no. I simply had nothing better to wear.” Then, smiling widely, she pulled away and looked into his obsidian eyes once more, “However, I’m not against a fine relationship between us.”

“Hn,” he had grunted out, seemingly viewing her in a new light as his right brow rose up in open curiosity. Izuna released a quiet breath, “I suppose I would not be against it either.”

She hadn’t known then the sort of thing that exchange of dialogue would mean for her in the long run.

**Sweet Spot**

Miho giggled openly at the sight of Izuna at the door of her newly furnished apartment overhanging a respectable tea house placed right smack dab in the hustle and bustle of the central life that she had finally grown accustomed to after the five months she had spent there. With the room came everything she could possibly need, the promise of three meals a day, and full time employment to make up for her taking up the room. 

The Uchiha smirked openly at seeing her flushing, excited face as he bumped his shoulder with hers before he passed by to enter inside. “So this is your new place, huh? Better than that inn at least. Small, though.”

“Well,” Miho started, rubbing at her shoulder absentmindedly, “I am only one person, and I just love tea shops. Always so calm and serene…like my mother’s garden back in Uzushio.” She grimaced at the comparison, feeling her heart ache at the thought of having been away for so long.

She’d never been gone a week from Uzushio—much less an entire half a year.

“Getting homesick, are you?” Izuna asked, plopping himself onto the cushion at the tea table she had set out in the main room.

Miho shrugged, never sure what to say when the Uchiha asked her something she found a bit too personal. The honest streak in her made her want to spill everything—how she ached to tell him about how this mission was brought to her, especially how she never personally intended to target the Uchiha. Yet, her feelings were conflicted…

Not only did she have the string desire to prove herself to her family, but her heart had done the most unlawful thing of betraying her. She was fairly certain that she was beginning to regard Izuna with the same unfathomable affection as she felt for Genta.

While she wanted to tell him everything and beg for forgiveness, she knew clearly where his loyalties lied and she knew full well that she wouldn’t dare let even a tiny bit of the truth slip out of her mouth.

Besides, he probably would greatly doubt her even if she did tell him—so far he held this idea of her being some sort of perfectly tamed woman, one who would never ever think to harm a fly. If she was being honest, she could get a clear idea on why that would be the case, but it made her feel like a false image.

He most likely wouldn’t believe her if she told him about how some of the boys in the village were fearful of her, after what happened to Yuusei in her childhood. He still had the scars too…

Either way, she knew that Izuna would only ever be a temporary friend.

Her expression turned dark, she was sure, as she huffed out a sigh and went off to locate her ear cleaning kit.

When she came back, Izuna had already laid himself out straight by the table and she chuckled at the anticipation in his eyes. Habits that had formed over time probably died hard.

Her eyes twinkled with excitement and warmth when a flicker of an idea came to her, “Not here. I didn’t get to tell you yet, but I have a balcony with a very pretty view.” In fact, it was the selling point that had made her accept the place after having been offered a few other places of residency.

Instantly he flickered to her side with a speed she’d only seen the stronger shinobi in her life use. Inside, she shivered at the intensity but outwardly she just smiled softly.

Miho slid open the paper door, and released a soft breath when taking the outside scenery. The mountains surrounding the village were simply something out of divine creation. The sunlight slid over the sides of the hills and the trees shook with the gentle breeze that passed through amiably. She blinked when realizing that some of the trees were even beginning to bud with her childhood favorite of sakura trees.

She quickly settled herself quickly on the balcony, sitting her usual seiza position, and peaked up at Izuna.

Miho held back a snicker of sorts at seeing the way he stood, eyes wide. His onyx orbs glittered with delight as a smile spread across his face.

“So you approve?” she asked, and patted on her lap after his gaze swiveled in her direction quickly.

“Yes,” he responded easily, coming to lay his head on her lap after taking one last good look.

“You know,” Miho started, her tone joking, “I should start charging you for this, ‘ttekisa.”

“That notion is cute and all, Miho-chan, but I already pay you with my presence.”

She chuckled in response, “That’s outrageous! I’m sure it’s the other way around, if anything. I’m the one and only Uzuamki Miho, after all.”

“Ex-Uzumaki,” Izuna corrected her, as if it actually bothered him for her to say it.

Her heart felt a little twinge but she nodded, “Yes, but tell that to the flyers that are spread everywhere.”

“You should just get married already so that you can ditch the whole surname,” Izuna murmured, eyes closed and body relaxing into her touch as she gently touched his ears and skin.

Miho shrugged, “I…don’t really have any desire to marry.” The truth behind that matter would only get a laugh out of him, and probably a few jokes at her expense. She still couldn’t tell exactly why Izuna was fine in her books, but most every other man just sent off red alert alarms—despite the fact that she knew full well with age that men were not the undefeatable sex, and that most wouldn’t lay a hand on her.

But with that came full knowledge that _some_ defied her attempt at a positive outlook and the mere remembrance of times that she’d been groped, fondled, or harassed would nag at her until she’d give up in defeat—especially after she’d bring up Hashirama in her thoughts, and well…he didn’t exactly like her back the way she wanted him to.

“Me neither,” the Uchiha declared, thankfully interrupting a subject she’d rather _not_ think about, “but I’ll have to, if I happen to survive long enough to carry on the legacy of my clan.” Izuna looked thoughtful, eyes coming up to meet hers. “What if it was us though?”

Her brows shot up at the random and sudden question, “Us? What do you mean?”

“Well, it would solve both of our issues. I would get to marry a beautiful woman, and I won’t have to be bothered about it by my father anymore. So then, you’d get a new name, and a new family—and don’t even deny it, I know you want one. I see it in your eyes.”

Caught off guard at the spot on accuracy of his last statement, she found her eyes widening in shock.

His hand went up to caress her cheek, and she felt the air slap coldly against her cheeks. She blinked, only to find that tears dripped from her lashes.

“Oh,” she softly heard her say, and she quickly wiped away the wetness from her face. Miho shook her head, “I don’t think that would be a good idea. I don’t think your clan would appreciate a weak wife…”

“Tch, turned down so quickly! I guess it’s true. I’ll die an early death and won’t ever have the joy of being a father.” Izuna feigned sadness, shifting his body so he facing her stomach.

She swallowed thickly and quickly denied it, “Don’t be ridiculous, Uchiha-san. You’ll live a long and prosperous life ‘ttekisa.” Hopefully, that is. A long and prosperous life, indeed, spent while hating her guts. “I’m sure of it, ‘ttekisa…”

Miho sighed, setting to work on his other ear.

Izuna merely stared up at her quietly in response, before a small smile found its way to his face. “You should sing now.”

“Okay.”

**Sweet Spot**

Miho was a people watcher.

She liked to see the children play with one another as it reminded her of the past, back when she had done her best to be as wild as the others. She liked to witness the older ladies fight over the fresh produce sold at the stands, and she liked to laugh at the way their friends and family looked on with mixed reactions to the scenes. Most all, however, she enjoyed seeing the calmness in the air, rather than seeing the war torn valleys that she had come across in her travels.

Miho knew that this was how life should be like—vibrantly moving and eternal.

But often times, in the daily life she had taken, she’d found the disconcerting feeling that her position had been switched on her.

Someone was watching her back.

**Sweet Spot**

“Oh my god, you two are ridiculous, ‘ttebasa,” Mito noted after Miho had explained everything that had happened between her and Izuna. “Strategically, marriage would definitely be the step in the right direction but knowing you, who knows when that’ll happen.”

In all honesty, she had even tried to think of it like that. Miho frowned, both at her stupidity and at how Mito phrased her words, but she went on regardless, “I wonder if it would speed up his trust in me… So far I don’t get very much out of him as just his friend.”

“What you need to be doing is getting him to invite you to meet his family for you to build a better relationship with all of them,” Mito explained, hands on her hips, “Ahh, I wish I could stay here with you but I have other missions to attend to…”

Miho hated that sinking feeling her gut that told her that she’d been disappointing her sister, and she sighed out. “I understand. Sorry that you have to go out of your way to check up on me like thi—.”

Mito’s body stiffened up quickly, as she suddenly interjected, “Can’t you please come back home? I miss you!” Her expression shifted to look desperate before she reached out her hands to tug at Miho’s.

Catching on quickly, Miho tugged her fingers back, and shook her head, “The answer is no, Mito. I’m _happy_ here. Can’t you understand that father was _crushing_ my creative spirit? I needed to breathe when I left home, but after a break I know for a fact that I will never fit in as an Uzumaki.”

Mito sucked in a breath, looking as if she had been stung by Miho’s words, “How dare you say that, ‘ttebasa!? After all we’ve done for you!? Mother was right, you’re just as selfish as everyone else says. Just a stupid cry baby, who can’t even take a punch!”

Mentally she knew that it was just a mere act, but inwardly and emotionally she felt her suppressed feelings of weakness stir up. Her face hardened just as she fought off the desire to cry, “ _Out_.”

Mito looked offended, reeling back by the harshness of the word, “But—!”

“ _Get out of my house now!_ I never want to see any of you again, ‘ttekisa!”

Mito sucked in a breath, brows creasing in quick, violent anger, “ _Fine_ , ‘ttebasa! Don’t expect any help from us, ever again!”

Her breath came in heaves as she watched her sister slip out the door after quickly signing and mouthing her apologies. Physically, she felt sick to her stomach and ready to pass out but there was probably more for her to deal with.

It had been recent but she’d been finding it increasingly difficult to sense intruder’s presences like she had once been trained to. Of course she could have never dreamed of being a sensor, but at the very least she could at least match Mito’s ability in the practice.

Feeling faint and utterly put off from the fact that someone might have been listening in, Mito lurched to the balcony, opening the door and sucking a breath of fresh air before leaning over the railings that usually kept her from falling off.

Her blood ran cold when her gaze met the intruder.

There he was again, her eyes laying on him for about the fifth time during her entire stay in the village. She froze.

Madara Uchiha.

He met her gaze, cold and unmoving, before he flickered out of her sight as suddenly as she had come to see him.

She sagged in frustration and exhaustion alike, worn out from just the past few minutes alone.

“Why was he…?” she whispered aloud, confused by just his mere presence popping out of nowhere. She shivered, as her thoughts, matching her heartbeat, raced.

He must be suspicious of her.

She knew from Izuna that they were brothers, very close at that. She also knew that Madara tended to be be on missions for a majority of his time, with very few hours spent to himself. Izuna was slightly different in that he’d made a habit of coming to visit her in the capital, right after the missions he’d accepted.

She pursed her lips, swallowing.

Madara must be curious, it was only natural. After all, it wasn’t as if she was in a position to be trusted—in fact it was the utter truth that she should not be trusted with intelligence.

It would also make sense as to why every once in a while she had been able to randomly spot him in the crowd. Excluding the onetime she’d accidently bumped into him, however, she hadn’t shared even a single word of exchange with him.

She had a sinking feeling with this realization.

It was not a _good_ thing to be the target of Madara Uchiha—not after all of the stories she’d heard about him from Izuna and chatty villagers.

Miho only hoped this didn’t end badly for her.

**Sweet Spot**

_This was bad._

_There just wasn’t another way to describe it._

_Because watching it happen sent ill feelings through her body as she rolled in her sweat, passing in and out of consciousness._

_Images lingered close to her, almost so near that it was akin to being choked by the thoughts._

_Red was everywhere, bodies strewn carelessly on the land and Miho couldn’t even bare to think it but she was certain a few of her clansmen were among them._

_Worse yet, a scene would play—something she had begun to want to physically rip out of her head._

_It was heartbreaking to watch it happen as she recognized the man that had been on her mind recently._

_Izuna was with his brother, eyeless and fading fast as they exchanged words she knew would be the last that they’d share. She was clueless as to why her brain was forcing her to watch such horrifying things, as she hadn’t had such severe nightmares in a good long time._

_In the dream, she tried to yell out to Izuna, craving a reaction but nothing happened._

_Instead, her body continued to be coated in sweat and the scene continued to play on—._

A knock came at the door, jarring her out of the nightmare and she quickly swept by the long strands of red hair that fell over her face. She looked to the door and realized absentmindedly that she’d passed out in the living room.

No wonder her body ached with such pain.

Sleeping on a wooden surface had never been a thing she could do for long.  She hardly ever took naps quite like Mito’s brand, as she tended to pass out anywhere and at any time she felt the desire.

The knock came again, and this time it queued her to respond the right way. Adjusting her large, loose fitting shirt, she stood up and looking around for anything to change into. It wouldn’t be good if anybody saw her in the Uchiha branded shirt that Izuna had bestowed upon her after sleeping over at her place so many times in the past.

Then she thought back to who would possibly be at the door at the sort of hour they were in.

She had only ever known the young Uchiha himself to come in at absurd times in the night, and it could have possibly even be her sister, coming back to finish the discussion of earlier.

Either way, the next impatient knock at the door made her forget the idea of changing as she went off to the answer the door.

“Finally,” Izuna groaned out, when Miho finally opened up the door. “I was about to break in, thinking something bad had happened to you.”

The dream came back to her then, as she noted the smeared blood on his clothes. Earnest in her worry, Miho ignored his words as she tugged his body close, reminding herself of his realness. Her hands came to cup his face, before she brought her fingers to stroke near his eyes.

She felt him tense, bringing her back to reality.

Miho looked to him honestly and whispered softly, “Please don’t lose these.”

He looked terribly confused as she came to hug him tightly—being the first time their faces were so close to each other.

“I don’t exactly intend to just give them away, Miho…but what’s wrong? This isn’t like you at all.”

She shook her head, leaning her face into his chest as she basked in his warmth, holding onto him tightly.

Miho made a choice then, sudden but sure.

She would do exactly what her sister wanted her to do.

“I take back what I said before, Izuna,” she started, pointedly using his first name. His brows raised in sharp question.

Heartbeat racing as her breath came out in wet pants, Miho stepped back before she slowly lifted off her shirt. It might have been reckless, and most likely one hundred percent stupid, but it was finally time to prove herself as a kunoichi. For her to fulfill the wants that her parents wanted of her.

She hadn’t known when she was younger, but now she was older and the vision was there right at the Geisha tea houses she’d recently played at.

Miho had been raised to seduce and secrete information, and it was about time she owned up to it.

“I want you.”

**Sweet Spot**

When Miho had been younger, she had never been curious about how it was done. She felt sated knowing that she was born and didn’t have any particular desire to delve deeper.

It wasn’t until she had just turned fifteen, in fact, that she learned anything about the act of passion that had brought her into this world.

It was from Hayami—of all people—as she discussed the role of Geisha in society, who informed her about the tinier details. Upon learning of her confusion on the matter, Hayami had then proceeded to go into a lecture of the importance of seduction in a shinobi world, even bringing up the usefulness of it in espionage.

Never did she think she’d actually have to go through with it on a mission, having painted a delusional fantasy of spending her first time with someone she was in love with.

The truth behind it was bland in comparison.

In all honesty, she spent the duration of the time in either extreme, mind-numbing pain or a strange euphoric feeling that felt so foreign and weird, she had a hard time wrapping her brain around it.

She didn’t know whether or not Izuna had any actual skill with it, but Miho was quite sure he was no stranger to it at the same time.

After the fact, she didn’t feel very different from usual but she did have an immense sense of guilt at having taken advantage of Izuna. She did, however, feel closer with him—a feeling that had come unexpectedly.

She unconsciously breathed in his scent, nose positioned by the crook of his neck as he slept on. It was embarrassing, but a little part of her wanted to stay close to him like this forever, trapped in the warmth his body provided.

Miho squirmed uncomfortably, somewhat surprised by the sudden craving for the strange feelings he’d given her. Her cheeks felt flush before she burrowed deeper into his arms.

Life had taken her in a very strange direction.

“’ood ‘orning,” Izuna mumbled out, stirring as she continued to fidget under the covers. Suddenly, she felt both shy, nervous, and very, very naked.

“Good morning,” she responded with softly, feeling her skin buzz at the sudden way he came to touch her lower back. Miho curved into his touch, before she realized what she was doing exactly.

She’d messed up in doing this, didn’t she?

She didn’t _love_ him! Did he think she did? What if he did and would be heartbroken if she said otherwise? Inwardly her thoughts raced, but her senses were alight with the sensations his every action did to her. Izuna smiled at her before he brought his lips to her collarbone, before trailing kisses up to her chin.

Miho sighed into the act, thoughts scattering.

“Still as beautiful as ever,” he whispered against her skin, making her shiver and suppress a moan.

The sweet way he phrased his words left her reeling in confusion.

She felt dirty.

Panicked, she quickly moved to hover over him, and he stared up at her in confusion. Desperately, she begged out, “Make me fall in love with you.”

Izuna looked staggered as he stared speechlessly up at her, eyes assessing her expression before he came to slowly nod. Then, after a beat was missed, he gave her a crooked grin.

“Easiest mission ever received, Miho. I’ll be taking you once more as payment, of course.”

She squealed out in blatant surprise as he came to grab onto her waist, reversing their positions quickly as he smirked, watching her battle with the blush the crept up her neck.

“Of course,” she agreed breathlessly, unconsciously smiling in response.

What a ridiculous man.

**Sweet Spot – End**

Things to note; Izuna is not in love with Miho. Miho is not in love with Izuna. It’s mostly experimentation on their part, after realizing a form of love (something akin to good friendship) between them.

Miho’s perspective is certainly one-sided, so I will be adding more point of views as of the next chapter for a fuller story.

 


	6. Be Serious

 

**Ｗ ｉｌｌ　ｏｆ　Ｆｉｒｅ**

**_Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ_ ** **_6_ **

_“I hear your voice”, the moon sang,_

_“This night reflects only purity and obscurity within a dream,_

_Embrace the sadness, embrace it now, and embrace it deeply._

_You can live, I’m sure of it.”_

**Be Serious**

Izuna lifted the scroll, and with conscious effort not to snoop into the letter addressed for his older brother, he made his way to Madara. With long strides, he closed the gap between them, sliding open the door freely and casually before stepping inside the dark room.

With only a single candle flickering, Izuna found it hard not to question his brother’s eyesight as he met them.

“What is it, otouto?” Madara asked, fluidly rising from his position on the floor. In the meager lighting, Izuna could almost see a trace of a smile but had a feeling that it wouldn’t last much longer.

“Ah, aniki, the elders want to see you…” Izuna trailed off, pilfering forth the scroll as he watched his brother’s expression sour.

“Do you know what it’s about?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, frowning, “but I think it might be something good. Nothing like a reprimand.”

Madara smirked lightly, “I’m not like you, otouto, and I’ve never been reprimanded before.”

Izuna rolled his eyes because he knew it was a lie. But none of them liked to discuss the Senju clan these days, so he didn’t even bother saying the name of that damned brunette.

Without another word, the eldest son of the main family passed his younger brother before waving him forward, “Come with me. Let us discuss something I’ve had on my mind.”

It was Izuna’s turn to feel his face sour, and sour it did. He already knew what, or rather _who_ , his brother would talk to him about and he still had no idea what to say about it.

There was no way to escape, however, and Izuna had an inkling that even if he tried and succeeded, there would still be the inevitable _talk_.

“She’s not someone to trust,” Madara reminded him, after he cleared his throat, “and even if you use her, don’t let her use _you_.”

“I know,” Izuna replied with, feeling just a touch exasperated, “but listen, she’s not so bad. Honestly, she’s not the smartest, and even if she was, Miho is…kind. She’s not like most people these days. It’s refreshing.”

“Do you love her?”

Izuna paused in his steps, brows raising before he looked seriously to his brother, “I am fond of her, but no. Our relationship is confusing, at this point, but I don’t see us ever marrying or raising a family together. Mostly for the fact that she is ultimately different from us. While we fight and drench our hands in blood, hers are pure white and innocent.”

He wanted to protect it, which was something it had taken time for him to come to terms with. After all, Izuna had been raised into war, and she had escaped it by some stroke of luck. While she was talented in giving herself to people in the format of her soulful music, he was skilled in the art of taking people from this world.

It was with her, however, that he found the world felt softer, brighter…and he had begun to imagine the world in a harmonic state.

Still, every time he stepped foot into halls of his home, reality would strike hard and fast. They lived in much too different worlds, and he could only hope that when she realized this, she wouldn’t be hurt. But then, life was cruel, so it would probably result in her death.

Either way, the only true thing Izuna could do with his position would be to protect his clan at all cost—even at the ending of his own life.

“Have you had sex?” Madara asked, his question coming unexpectedly as Izuna forced himself not to choke on his own spit. Never before had he been asked that before. After all, it was private information. The only time one in the Uchiha clan had to be upfront about things was when a child came of it, because, well, the bloodline was perhaps the most important thing to any and all Uchiha. But jutsu could be used as precautionary methods, so it was rarely an issue in these days.

“Yes,” came his honest response, after a missed moment, still looking at his older brother incredulously.

“Hn,” Madara intoned evenly as he sped up in pace. “Be careful, otouto.”

Izuna was only slightly annoyed with the fact that his older was implying he himself couldn’t be trusted to look after his own hide. But then, he could appreciate the reminder.

What did he _really_ know of Miho?

**Be Serious**

Brows creasing, Miho’s delicate fingers flitted over the paper before she dipped her inkbrush in the toner. She sat back, rolling her shoulders, before lifting her face to look at her spectator. She frowned openly.

“Done with the seal yet?” Mito asked, looking a bit impatient as Miho focused on the task at hand.

The younger twin couldn’t help but make a face, “Remember what Kiyoshi-sensei said? I may be slow but my seals are never faulty.” Mostly because she was so detail oriented, there wasn’t a mistake to be seen on her seal work. “Besides, you should be able to do this one yourself by now. It’s only a blank void after all. Beginner material.”

“Eh~? I also missed you,” Mito admitted freely, twisting a lock of red hair around her thumb in obvious boredom before she smiled brightly.

Miho snickered, “Maybe that’s what’s taking me so long? I don’t want you to leave just yet.” In all honesty, subconsciously that was the most likely cause. Usually seals like this could be whipped up with little to no effort, but Miho had been in sore need of her sister’s presence these days.

She felt like she had been going nuts half the time she spent around Izuna, and the other half she was constantly paranoid about those around her. After all, she had recently discovered her ability to sense chakra was narrowing down to be a lost art to her. Dangerous.

In fact, something seemed to be amiss with her chakra as of late, but she could hardly find the time to look for someone with the ability to see what the problem was.

“I can’t wait until this mission is over for you,” Mito commented, face screwing up into a frown, “I wish you could be back on the island, back to doing regular performances. Oh, yeah, Genta sends his love, by the way.”

Sighing out forlornly, Miho looked to the face that was identical to hers, taking in those sharp looking dark eyes before looking back down to the seal in her hands, “This mission is indefinite, isn’t it? I just have to find a weakness, right? Then this will help Hashirama-san, and it will all be worth it.”

Even using her own body to get it, if that was what was she must do.

Mito nodded, chin plopping down into her raised up palm as she continued to play with her hair, “That reminds me…I don’t know if you heard or not, but Hashirama-san is now the head of the Senju clan.”

Miho looked up, stunned to silence at the news but not entirely put off by it. Her thoughts raced, and then she blinked sluggishly before asking, “But what about Butsuma-san?”

Mito sighed out slowly, “Well, he…died. In battle, the only way he would have liked it.”

“Hmm,” Miho nodded, and played with disgraceful thoughts of a world in which dying in battle would not be a goal in order to keep honor.

“So, well, anything to report?” Mito asked, blowing a breath out through her pink lips. Her fingers played absentmindedly with a string on her kimono before looking up with sharp eyes. Miho couldn’t help but think it was interesting that although they had the same exact face they still used it so differently. While Mito looked much like a fox with her slanted, sharp eyes and the pursed lips, matched with an upturned nose, Miho was a distinctive contrast. With a loving smile, brows raising up with widened coal-colored eyes, the upturned nose looking less severe and more...cute.

It told two very different stories about them.

Either way, this cute smile of hers turned miffed as she lost it, mumbling out quietly, “I keep thinking about it all and I don’t think...it’s working very well. All I know now is that Uchihas typically like love songs the most.”

“So you have nothing?” Mito looked both disappointed and sad, “but then why did you give up yourself in such a way?”

Miho resisted the sharp flinch that came so naturally, lips coming to hurt by the time she realized how tightly her teeth had clamped over them. She swallowed, heaved out a sigh and looked to her sister, “Was it wrong of me?” Her hands nearly twisted the seal into a mashed up piece of paper before she quickly set it apart from herself. Instead, her fingers came to twirl her vibrant vermillion hair, eyeing the tight constraints of Mito’s buns. Her scalp usually hurt too much if she even _dared_.

“It can’t be _wrong_ of you,” Mito murmured, brows creasing with worry, “You have always been a bit of a nut about this sort of thing in general, but honestly. Sex is not a big deal—especially if we have to do it for the sake of the clan.”

Again, she could only see another world in her eyes that told an abstract idea about love and private words.

**Be Serious**

Mito was not used to leaving her sister alone like this and she admittedly _did not fucking like it_.

Nibbling on her lower lip and looking severely up at the winter sky, the redhead trudged on in her snow clothing and thought only of whether her sister was safe in the hands of the Uchiha. The Uzumaki didn’t have the _worst_ possible relationship and it was obvious to see that Miho tended to be liked by nigh everyone she came across—something about that refreshing, unusually kind smile, those eyes that looked too bright and sweet—yet, she knew it could be better.

They probably didn’t appreciate the tight alliance with the Senju clan. The ally of an enemy is still an enemy, after all.

Mito worried for her sister’s mind most of all, she supposed. She didn’t want that sweetness to evaporate. She could not imagine a world where Miho did not convey the deepest of meanings in her music, or the smile that held all of the emotions in her body. She knew her sister was sensitive—had always known—but she also knew her sister held an unlikely strength that had kept her serenely kind their entire lives. Yet she had no idea what Miho was going through and already, Mito could see a change—and it terrified her.

Darker expressions, a somewhat semi-permanently wrinkled brow, and obvious guilt etched into that soft skin of hers.

Not okay.

If something bad happened, she _swore_ ; Mito would not _stop_ in tearing any Uchiha limb from limb. She couldn’t handle if anything horrid came her way, especially knowing how delicate Miho was.

Visibly clenching her fists, Mito’s pace quickened as she thought of idyllic scenes at the shore with the rest of their family and friends. She wanted for it to happen again as a dream come true. Maybe then Hashirama could see a different spectrum of Miho—he’d never honestly seen her relaxed as much as that sounded incredulous—and fall just as her little sister had done.

Maybe then he’d stop being an utterly annoying pest around her.

Grunting out a sigh, Mito was close to coming upon the Senju clan after having spent days in the cold. Her legs could not move fast enough as she closed in to what she knew as the entrance. Finally, after just a few antsy moments, she sidled up to the wooden barrier.

Knowing exactly how Hashirama worked with his mokuton, Mito quickly knocked her knuckles across the surface searching for the hallow door. Unfortunately, her fist cracked the wood on her very first try. She sighed, glaring at the weak wall before Mito abruptly, instinctively, dived away from it.

As if on cue, it shuddered, creaking and moaning. Then, with all the boisterous humor she had known him to hold in every single one of his entrances, Hashirama stepped out of the self-opening doors.

Mito glared over at him, feeling the snow’s cold soak its way into her bones. “You know, I kind of want to wipe that grin off your face, Hashirama- _san_.” Pointedly, she did not address him as if she would usually. He was still working on attempting to get her to call him familiarly, without honorifics. After all, just knowing that her sister hadn’t even worked up the nerve was enough to keep Mito from it.

Instantly, he gave her a sheepish grin, “Oh! Mito!” He hurriedly made his way to help her back up to her feet, hand gripping tightly over her own in a way that made her hesitant heart pound faster.

Her cheeks flushed hotter before she wrenched her hand away from him, “So, you called me over for something important, I assume, and not just something stupid like a marriage proposal.”

Hashirama looked at her with a pout, “Marriage isn’t stupid, Mito…which is why you should accept it.”

She rolled her eyes, deflecting the issue at hand, “Whatever, just give me the details.”

“One day,” he murmured, in such a quiet, under the breath way that she was surprised she caught onto it. As her ears began to feel hot, she ignored it by giving him a harsh stare, “Aha! Well, there is some good news, concerning Miho-chan.”

His eyes lit up again when talking about her sister, but she was too self-aware to know what it actually meant.  He regarded her much like she would. A sibling. Cherished and loved, but not _loved_. Idiot.

“What is it?” Mito asked, pushing forth cheer when she felt bitter.

“Now that I’m the clan head, I was talking it over with your father about her mission and we’ve decided on something. It will probably take a while but I think with her we could definitely pull it off.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Hashirama grinned like a young boy with his hand caught in a sweets jar, “when Miho and I were younger we made a promise.”

Her brows shot up, “Promise?” She’d never heard of one being made with the two of them, and her little sister was prone to jabbering on nonsensical things when concerning the brunette.

“When we were younger, particularly the second time we had met, the moonlight had shone brightly that night. It was under it that we made a promise to…to help our world, to alter our destiny of wars and end them.”

“End them…?”

“It’s time, Mito. We’re going to make nice with the Uchiha.”

**Be Serious**

“Tch,” Izuna grunted out, after her hand came up to block his face for the second time since he’d come to visit her. “What’s wrong with you today?”

“Ahh,” Miho fidgeted under his strong, intent gaze before she glanced up to meet his eyes. “I have work to do, Izuna-kun.” There was also the added fact that it was getting stranger by the day for their relationship to be so disarmingly strange.

It had been an entire month since she’d declared such outrageous things for the sake of getting in with the Uchiha for the sake of her clan. Yet it wasn’t getting any easier on her consciousness, nor on her heart.

A small part of her resented her actions, balking at the fact that she’d done such private things with a person she’d been told to hate. In the meantime, the other part wasn’t helping much either, considering the good majority of Miho’s thoughts included her yelling at herself to press forward and conquer the relationship already.

Thus, caught at a crossroads, Miho found it extremely hard to let him touch her the way he obviously wanted to.

But she was much too embarrassed about it to say anything even close to the truth.

“Usually when I visit, you don’t work on things like—.”

She set down her brush, turning her gaze to the man before rushing out a heavy sigh.

He stared at her, and she looked at him.

Then, slowly, eyes set on his, Miho reached a hand out. Her sleeve slid back on her forearm of its own accord, revealing her cream-colored skin with a touch of pink dusting across her arms. Her fingers came to rest upon his cheek, and his eyes seemed to sharpen in response.

She bit her lip, replaying sordid scenes in her head before she could only sorely realize the aching energy in her heart _craved_ for something. She wanted to be close with him—he was new, foreign in comparison to the boys she had grown up with. He was older than here, although with feminine features like thin brows and fuller lips. Yet he could still only be taken as a man upon closer inspection regarding his stature, confidence, and the body he maintained. Strong, thick, hard. With boys in her village, however, she could only see the faces of their past and immediately lost focus on them. Hashirama was typically easier to imagine herself being with but the past few times with Izuna had trapped her in odd thoughts—betraying any and all of what she had used to say she loved.

In short, Izuna was just was beautiful as any other Uchiha—she’d never seen any short of their gene pool, after all.

In comparison she felt just a bit self-conscious—her thighs were fuller than most women, and her stomach was not without a thin layer of fat due to her inactivity. Her muscles were almost non-existant, but admittedly she still maintained some of it by the meager exercises she managed to get around to with her busy schedule. Did he possibly hold a higher regard for girls much like him? He knew she was no shinobi or kunoichi—would never be a proper one anyway—so he should know what he was getting himself into. Yet she did not have that perfect image she thought he would be after.

She could not throw worth a damn, after all.

Miho nearly wanted to throttle herself upon realizing her train of thought. How shallow! How unimportant and useless it was to think in such a way! He was either going to accept all of her, which he had already proven himself capable of many times, or he was going to leave and she would just develop another means to get some information on his clan.

With a nod of her head, she felt both dumb and empowered.

It was then that she decided she held control in this relationship—in as much as he did. She could not let him pressure her, and would not let a societies ideals do it either. This would be her choice.

Miho breathed in once more, sliding her table away with one hand before coming to simultaneously cup the back of his head and cheek. Her face slid closer and there was no hint of hesitation or fight in her actions. She readily covered his mouth with her own, freely deepening it by pressing her tongue through his lips, licking his teeth in a way that asked for entrance.

Her chest pressed into his, her kimono riding up on her thighs before she found herself situated on his lap. His arms were around her then, carefully undoing the knot on her obi before it fell away. Her clothes loosened up and she careened into his touch, sucking in a hot breath before hearing a moan wrangle its way out of her.

Her skin felt abuzz with something akin to electricity—warmer than she had thought been possible.

She looked down at him with heavy-lidded eyes, mouth going wide when Izuna’s hand trailed lower, caressing so sweetly over her stomach. Again the feelings were disorienting and strange—unlike anything she had felt previous to the moment Izuna and her had first crossed the boundaries.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he whispered in her ear and she truly felt those words in that moment.

In that quiet moment between them, Miho melted. She was quickly overtaken by sensation, heat, and a blur of motions that left her stripped and covered only by his warm, warm skin.

**Be Serious**

This time she felt very different than the last few times waking up with him. This time she reveled in the feeling of her loneliness evaporating. Miho found herself smiling, biting her lip before she slid up even closer, rubbing her thighs over his. He gave a soft sigh, eyelashes flickering as they opened and met hers.

“Hello there, beauty,” he croaked out, hand instantly flying to rest on her hip.

“Hi there, pretty boy,” she murmured, smirking playfully.

Miho instinctively released a flurry of laughter upon his pouncing, his hands coming to smoothly grasp her wrists. Izuna smirked, and she smiled, fighting off the lingering touch of amusement. He pressed his lips to hers then, and with that moment, Miho ignored the unwanted feelings of wrongness that attempted to step in after the fact.

Izuna pulled back, still grinning, as he slid to sit onto his knees, “I have to leave for a while, Miho, but I will be back.”

Suddenly concerned, she pulled herself up, feeling the way her long hair clung to her body like a second skin. “A while? Where are you going?”

“Well, now that my brother is the clan leader,” Izuna scratched at his head, looking almost sheepish—as if it were possible—before mumbling, “he has to do a lot to prove his competence with the role, and with the news about the Senju clan…it’s sort of like we’re just destined to fight them.”

“Oh.”

She suddenly felt cold—something wasn’t right.

Her chest felt tighter than she had felt in a long time, heavy. She breathed out a sigh and met his eyes. He was reading her like a book. There was no need for her to lie, and so she quietly spoke, “I…have always despised war with the deepest parts of my being. It’s not right. It’s just _not_ right.”

He looked at a loss for words, his mouth hanging somewhat open before he nodded, finally clearing his throat, “This…is why you are too different from me. You are someone with white, soft hands. Mine are covered in blood and scars. It would be a mockery of my family if I were to say such foolish things.”

Rejection—completely, and utterly.

Miho nodded, biting upon her lower lip in almost a painful manner, “I know. I’ve known for a very long time. We’re too different. _I-I’m_ too different.” She fought back the tears, bitter and strong. When one finally managed to slide down to the edges of her lip, she tasted salt.

Kindly, Izuna seemed to brush it back, along with radical strands of red hair. His face was only centimeters away, and she took it upon herself to softly brush her lips against his.

“We’re friends, okay?” Miho murmured to him, eyes locked on with his seriously, “I won’t allow anything different.”

“Friends? That would be nice, as besides how great the sex has been, you’re probably better meant for some civilian bread maker boy.” Izuna grinned in a way she had never seen before, and she couldn’t help but feel the mood change with these words.

She laughed, “Probably.”

**Be Serious – End**

 


	7. To Be Kept Warm

 

**Ｗｉｌｌ　ｏｆ　Ｆｉｒｅ**

**_Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ_   _7_**

_In a world where they ignore the important things,_

_There are few that will rise up._

_Those few are our heroes._

_Reluctant as they be._

**To Be Kept Warm**

Ryota had rarely come across a girl of such beauty in his entire life.

At first, he had been frozen in his steps the moment he met her gaze, and had been wordless.

Even now, he still was unable to meet her gaze fully, or else he was certain there would be no way out.

Her voice sent chills down his spine, in the perfect way her mouth formed the vowels, her lips a perfect shade of red. Her skin looked soft, pleasant to the touch. Velvet. Silk. A woman so fascinating to watch that every time she moved it was like a piece of art breathing in and realizing itself into a person.

She actually spoke to him, _him_.

Miho Uzumaki looked to Ryota as a human being—he hadn’t known that there was a difference until he met her.

“How are you?”

Her voice was soft when she asked him such a simple question.

“I-I’m fine,” he stuttered out in response, lamely. “What about you, Miho-san?”

“Well, I recently caught a cold,” she sniffed as if to emphasize her point, “I’m not very used to the cold. Back home, it was always warm.”

Ryota hummed, noting the extra layers she was wearing in the cold. In comparison to his thinner materials, it was clear to see who was the most sensitive to it. He felt tempted to offer the rest of his clothes if it would make her happy.

She smiled, cheeks red from the nipping chill, and her nose looking similar to a tiny small budding tomato. The rest of her skin looked simply clean of flaws, pristinely shimmering as her coal eyes bored down into his.

“Do you miss it there?” Ryota asked, and wished he hadn’t the second the words left his mouth. Her smile twitched in place, and looked considerably faker as time went on.

“Sometimes,” she seemed to honestly say, “Sometimes I would wish I was a different person, someone who could play the part wanted of me. Probably someone the direct opposite, actually—strong, determined, loyal.” She paused, looking him in the eyes with a bitter smile crossing her face, “Ryota-kun, I wish many things for myself because...I’m not the best actress, you see.”

He didn’t know so much how to respond to that. He knew so little about her, after all, and it wasn’t as if she would even have the time in her life to listen to him gush about how absolutely beautiful she was, and how her music resonated with the sort of wishes he had for _himself_. He wanted to tell her how the lyrics always held a sense of pure love inside of them, a personality that expressed nothing but the multifaceted truth, along with a tremulous melody that sung across many feelings.

Her playing was enviable by most anyone that could recognize the skill in which she played with. Fingers flitting across her instruments, her eyes drawing focus to the audience around her as if everything came naturally. He would like to call her gifted but that didn’t exactly cut it out simply on what he felt when he saw her performances.

Was this love? He would always answer with a negative, having long since recognized the futility in reaching out to her.

She was favored by Izuna Uchiha, after all.

 So, with a heavy heart and countless words falling from his head to be replaced with meaningless ones, Ryota asked, “Do you fit in here?”

She seemed to purse her lips before she gave one last tiny nod, “More so here than there.”

He noticed that there was a sense of pure, unadulterated honesty in her words. Yet she seemed to look very, very _sad_ when concerning her truth.

“You’re accepted here,” Ryota allowed himself to say, even as his heart squeezed on the inside and his stomach did strange things in response to her pretty smile. “I-I accept you, at least, and I always will.”

Miho grinned fully, which only seemed to make his head spin.

“Thank you,” she murmured, before leaning in close enough that he could smell her scent—something like the fruits that came from foreign lands; mangos, coconuts, or something like that. He could have pinned that on a perfume but something told him that this was natural. His brain ended up stuttering, his breath hitching, and his cheeks heating up and then, and then…

She kissed him.

On the forehead, but still.

 _A kiss_.

His beating heart nearly soared up his throat in order to tell her of his undying love.

But then she moved back, and murmured softly to him, “I’m leaving here and I don’t know when I will be back.”

That beating heart of his dropped to the bottom of his stomach, and he was surprised to find a bit of pain there.

“W-What… _why_?” Ryota tried to refrain from letting his voice raise—he did not want to make her cry, after all, and girls were prone to doing that when he yelled at them to hurry up.

“I have a promise that I need to keep,” Miho whispered, this time close enough to be right into his ear. “A very important one.”

“Miho-san,” he started, swallowing, “will you be coming back?”

“Maybe,” she told him, playfully, smiling in a way that made him angry.

 _Please don’t be so flippant_ , he wanted to tell her, _please don’t pretend this isn’t sad_.

He didn’t say it, however, because then he would have been a hypocrite.

“Then, will you make a promise with me?” Ryota asked, hoping it came off lightheartedly, and not as if he would terrible broken if she said no.

“Of course, my friend.”

His façade fell to pieces, reaching to grab her hands in his own earnestly as he closed the bit of distance between them. With this closeness, he noticed a few things. First, she was infuriatingly taller than him—but that would change—and secondly, she was even prettier up close, her eyes being so _damned_ mysterious, her lips just as pink as the day he’d first met her months ago, and her complexion that of something so flawless he had to wonder why she was not already officially taken.

She looked surprised as her gaze met his, and her cheeks seemed to redden which only made him angrier.

Miho was making this damned hard to be calm.

He took in a breath, planning on telling her to promise to come back.

Something entirely different came out.

“If, _when_ , you come back here and you are not in love, will you give me a chance?”

They stood silently for a moment, with Miho looking particularly shocked, before she cleared her throat, glancing away with all the redness of a tomato. He couldn’t help but marvel over how cute it was.

“If,” she gave a little cough, “ _when_ , I come back, and I am not already with another…I will give you that.”

Then, she slipped her hands back out of the hold and turned her back before walking quickly out of the very place they had been when he had first laid eyes on her.

He was only glad that she didn’t look back in her leaving.

She probably would have changed her mind when seeing the tears streaking through the dirt on his cheeks.

**To Be Kept Warm**

Mito winced against the dull throb in between her thighs.

She absolutely hated riding horseback, it being probably one of the most uncomfortable experiences for her to date. But, of course, they were traveling under aliases and with a made up story of being traveling merchants so it must be done.

Not very many people who made their livelihood on sales would be without a horse, as most of them did not have the stamina of ninja, and did not have the tricks of jumping from tree to tree. Without a horse, they would be suspicious as they entered into the capitol in the Land of Fire, Mito also had to use a hated genjutsu just to appear with short brown hair, green eyes, and basically the exact opposite of her sister because her sister was _really famous_.

It was sort of obvious to see that Mito was no happy in that moment and the majority did not come from the uncomfortable ride to pick up her sister, or the disgusting face she had to use, or even from the fact that she itched to be in a fight so badly it was hurting her insides.

No.

It was because she was ‘married’ to a dumbfuck—for lack of a better word.

“We could have been siblings,” Mito hissed for the umpteenth, looking through narrowed eyes to the absolutely _beaming_ Hashirama.

“We could have been,” he agreed, nodding, “but this way is so much more fun, my lovely _wife_.”

“I’ll chop off your balls the moment you even _suggest_ we make a child,” Mito viciously informed him, even pulling out a kunai for emphasis.

She wondered what the hell her sister saw in the idiotic man. Had she not spent even a day with him to see the truth behind his charming façade?

Ugh, he could make her so… _mad._

“Not when we’re so close to our destination,” Hashirama seemed to mumble out, looking a bit frayed around the edges from the multiple threats she had sent his way. Yet she was almost certain this too was just an act to lure her in. It would work on Miho, she was certain, but _she_ was different and she did not allow herself to even for one second believe he was ever genuine.

“About an hour, right?” Mito asked, squirming on her saddle as she prayed to be let off soon.

“About an hour,” he agreed.

Mito sighed, “We could have been siblings.”

**To Be Kept Warm**

Although the farewell to Ryota was wholly unexpected, Miho only regretted one thing in her departure from the capitol; Izuna.

He was away on a mission and thus even a goodbye on that front wasn’t to be expected but would have been liked.

Sighing to herself as she walked to what had been the agreed meeting place with her sister and Hashirama—it surprised herself when she felt none of what had been the familiar flutter in her chest for the name—before seating herself inside the tea shop, nibbling into her purchased dango stick.

She’d spent a total of eight months here, a couple of months away from a full year and still had only managed to get only little tiny insider details that might as well have been thin air. The Uchiha had proved to be the stronger opponent, she supposed, and thus the mission was a failed one. Right?

Miho wondered if, in fact, she _would_ be back.

She also had to imagine in her wait, how exactly Ryota would look like in the coming years. Would he resemble Izuna in his more feminine stylings? Or would he be broad backed, with the strong jaws most men from Uzushio were like? She couldn’t even string together how that would be possible, given his lack of a defined jaw. Higher cheekbones, sure, but a square jaw was not in his future.

She’d bet his voice would be deep.

Finishing off the dango stick, Miho looked out into the streets and sighed.

Even now she could now spot a few familiar faces, people that had attended her shows or visited the shop she had helped out at. Yet very few names had been attached and she felt no lingering fondness for the capitol, only for the few people she had been close enough to form bonds with.

She would be glad to finally be back home when it was all over.

Miho stood when a lack of her sister roused her attention away from her thoughts. She decided to take a walk, something she had loved to do during her time spent in the large city, knowing that every step taken further would be a new discovery to herself.

She’d been careful of the Red Light district, of course, but had definitely worn down less traveled paths in her bored exploration of the surrounding buildings. It was because of this that she thought perhaps her sister had gotten either lost in direction or lost in the sites that enveloped tourist from all around with the prideful showcases from the natives of the region.

It was with this in mind that she instead traveled to the gate, in hopes of possibly being in a less packed in area for some chakra sensing to be done. She knew it wasn’t something she could do herself—that particular skill had ran itself so down that even killer intent became something like white noise when she was informed of its presence.

Miho did not expect for her whimsical actions to lead to the places they actually led.

**To Be Kept Warm**

“Hashirama,” Mito snapped after having had to pull the selfish bastard away from yet another store as she attempted to reign him in long enough to grab her sister and get the hell out of the village.

“But Mito, that man had the freshest eggs in the world!”

“How do you figure?”

“The sign said so.”

At that, Mito swung her hand around to hit him in the back of the head, “Be serious today! We have to get my sister before she wanders off from sheer boredom.”

“She wouldn’t do that,” Hashirama explained, frowning.

The Uzumaki girl growled, “That goes to show how well you actually know my sister, you self-absorbed asshole.”

“But it’s true! She once waited an entire day for me, after all. There was a time she got caught up on a mission I was handling. It was right after her performance and I told her to wait for me to deliver a package.”

Mito had to let her hand get friendly with her face over that little bit of information, “And what was the actual reason you were making her wait for!?”

 “Well, it actually turned to lead to a big battle and so what I thought would be just a few hours turned into far longer,” Hashirama admitted, sheepishly scratching at the back of his head. “She was really cute you know, waiting up for me like a little sister almost.”

She sighed, somehow wondering why the hell she even put up with him for.

“Hashirama,” she started, “I’ll give you something if you actually put priority into us finding my sister so we could take her home for the so called _planning_ you want her present for.”

“Okay,” he gave in easily, yet looking just a bit bitter in the way she was often seeing these days, “I just…sort of wanted to spend more time alone with you. Sorry.”

Mito merely huffed out a sigh, before grabbing hold of his collar and dragging him to where she prayed her sister still lingered.

**To Be Kept Warm**

When Miho met his eyes, she wasn’t exactly sure how to feel, but it was anything but what she thought she _should_ be feeling. After all, she had told herself to stay away from him, and Izuna had also warned her against.

Yet here he was—her fault.

He glared down at her, hand seeming to unconsciously steady her after she had just so suddenly bumped into him. His fingers felt cold and impressionable even through the fabrics she wore in the winter time. Her cheeks probably looked as red as hot as her face felt.

“My apologies,” Miho exclaimed, bowing deeply in the way she had been taught how to since a very young age.

Even then she could hear Chigusa’s snappy voice in her ear, barking at her to straighten her arms more, to be less of a mess when she rose out of the bow. When she was little, her hair would fall every which way, flying into her face and sticking to her wet lips and tearstained cheeks. Now, after many years of practice, her red locks stayed in place even despite the wind that blew in. Her hand, pale white against the striking color of her hair, held it back gracefully from her face before she tried for a sincere smile.

Madara Uchiha was not having it, from the looks of it.

Miho took a step back, looking very fragile. With pale skin and widening dark eyes, Miho did not know how to end this, not even where to begin.

Hesitantly, she released a bit of a cough, “I-If you’ll excuse me…”

“No,” Madara stopped her, fingers coming to clench on her shoulder in a way that would have been painful if she wasn’t so utterly shocked. “Why are you leaving here?”

She had to blink rapidly at that, mouth coming to gape openly. She’s really only told her boss and Ryota that she was leaving, how did _he_ know? Miho was even prepared to ask, but soon realization came to her. He’d been watching her this entire time.

The rumors were true. Madara protected his last sibling in every single aspect of Izuna’s life. Even in romance, where suspicious girls could somehow do something reckless to his little brother. Which is why she wasn’t surprised that he had kept his eye on her, especially with her family line’s support for their enemy.

In retrospect, this entire mission had been much more of a sham than she’d been expecting. Nothing big happened while she was here, she didn’t learn anything new in terms of intel gathering, and she’d mostly just played ninja while her sister did the real work. She’d even lost her virginity—something that if her dad found out about, he would _not_ be pleased with—while at the time thinking it meant something. It hadn’t, really, as it mostly left her in a precarious situation on what to do.

She couldn’t get married to the high lords anymore, not like her father wanted her to. In the eyes of society, she had just ruined herself, giving away something that was meant to be kept as sacred.

At the time, she hadn’t thought much of it—she had her music, who needed a husband?

Even now, Miho couldn’t will up the desire to care about it although she could just imagine the anger filled eyes of her father already in view.

She rather thought the question should have been different. Not why she would be leaving, but why she’d ever come there in the first place.

Miho looked Madara in the eyes then, sucking in a sharp breath before snapping out, “Tell me why I should stay!”

There was no reaction on his face, not even a bat of his eyelashes.

He was very handsome, Miho noticed in annoyance. Much like his brother but with an air of hardness and unrelenting cynicism for the world. His hand seemed to grip tighter on her shoulder, but she had been put into a sour mood and just wanted to see her sister’s face again.

Lowering her eyes, cheeks burning brightly as she fought off the tears that wanted to spill forth, Miho snapped quietly, “Let go of me, Uchiha-san. My matters do not concern you.”

He did, hand slipping away with such grace it almost felt nice against her fabrics. But she turned away before she could meet his eyes again, walking away as the cold nipped at her nose and her tears warmed her cheeks.

**To Be Kept Warm**

Mito obviously could tell something was wrong upon chancing the sight of her sister walking aimlessly on one of the well-worn roads. There was a smaller air about the musician, fragile in the winter air. She looked a little lost, but her steps were surefooted as they forged a path through the snow. Around her, people looked at her with obvious eyes but the redhead seemed not to care.

“Miho!” Mito called out, brows creasing together before she rushed to her sister’s side, abandoning her ‘husband’ at the dango stand he’d become enamored with.

“Mito?” Hashirama called out, mouth full of the sweet.

The musician turned, cheeks puffed out in an obvious show of displeasure before she made her way to the older sister of the two, “I have missed you!” Then, with a sweeping motion, Miho took Mito into her arms, hold strong against the elements, warmth exuding in waves before Mito realized that her sweet, soft sister…was crying.

“I’ve also missed you,” Mito told her, although she thought it sounded a bit strange to her ears to say it. They’d seen each other in the last month, after all, and it wasn’t as if they had been far apart.

No, something else must have been bighting at her. They had gone to great lengths to help her weak sister stronger, for her to fight back tears, but the success had been minute. Obviously it didn’t take much for Miho to shed tears, but it also felt different this time.

It was not just the surface. The way her twin clutched at her robes made it very apparent that the tears came from somewhere very deep.

“Let us find somewhere private,” Mito offered, keeping a close hold on her, “then we can talk about what’s really bothering you.”

“No,” Miho said, eyes glancing to look at Hashirama, “let’s leave now. I have grown bored of my time here.”

**To Be Kept Warm – End**

 

 


	8. Rumors Spread Like Legs

**Ｗ ｉｌｌ　ｏｆ　Ｆｉｒｅ**

**_Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ_   _8_**

_The voices rise around as one, all saying the same_

_Talk about that girl, what a shame._

**Rumors Spread Like Legs**

Miho took to horseback riding like a fish took to water, much to the chagrin of her sister. However, Miho was unapologetic as she took over the reins of the second mount, soothing the mare with soft words and an even softer touch that soon turned into a powerful grip paired with a commandeering voice.

Takuya, she liked to call the large dark steed, goading him to move quickly and surely, pleased to have some form of control in her life.

“We’ll be headed to talk with the Yamanaka clan first,” Hashirama said, pulling up beside her, smiling in the way that used to send waves in her stomach but, somehow, no longer did. Instead, she could return the grin with ease, a calm settling over in a way she never would have expected.

“I did a private performance for them when I was sixteen,” Miho commented, feeling the fond memory wash over her, “so it’s been five years.”

“You have?” Mito asked, hands tightening their hold on Miho’s waist, “I haven’t actually officially met any of them.”

“They don’t usually open themselves up to strangers,” Hashirama explained, “the only allies they have are the Nara and Akimichi clans. They do their best to effectively stay out of the limelight and don’t keep many enemies.”

“Then how are you so sure they’ll let us in long enough for them to hear your offer?” Mito asked, then snickered to herself, “How do you figure that we’ll somehow unite all of the shinobi clans in the first place? Everyone either hates each other or just wants to be left alone, no one wants peace.”

“I honestly would have waited for a different time actually,” Hashirama answered, voice sounding just a tiny bit nostalgic, wistful in the cold afternoon. Then he looked to smile brightly at the young musician, “But we can do it now because we have something that can unite all of us.”

“You’re insane,” Mito said, incredulous, “if Miho is what your implying.”

Miho felt smaller under the scrutiny of her traveling partners, feeling unsure and just a little bit amazed. Hashirama really had gone off the deep end last time she’d seen him. Or had he always been this way? She couldn’t be too sure.

“No,” the clan leader insisted, “I don’t think you’ve seen it in person but…she has a way of making people like her just from being in the same room. With just a look into her eyes, many men will fall for her, like many already have.” Hashirama smiled, clear mirth in his eyes as he did so, “Not sure about women, to be frank, but there’s nothing a beautiful woman can’t woo a man into doing.”

“We’re twins,” Miho interjected, head spinning with questions, wondering why the hell he was saying such things, and why he somehow thought that _she_ could be even remotely helpful. “Why don’t you say Mito can also…woo men?”

Hashirama frowned at that, “You’re musically gifted, Miho-chan. Your persuasion reaches far because of that. Besides,” he sniffed, rubbing at his nose, “your sister is mine.”

Mito stiffened behind her while Miho blinked in surprise.

“You’re together?”

“No!”

“Yes.”

Miho craned her neck to look at her sister, whose face was red in a way that she’d never seen on her sister’s face. She paused, wondering about the reactions before dumbly saying, hollowly, “It would be nice if you two were together.”

Now that she thought about it, it wasn’t all that surprising. She’d seen hints to it her entire life, which had probably fueled the jealousy even more so, but now that she could clearly see things now, Hashirama had always liked Mito.

It was evident in the way he always got the better gifts for Mito, the way he’d wait up for her on his visits when he’d simply go on ahead if it were with Miho. He stared at her older sister with eyes that took in everything, noticing every little change in the older twin’s expression and body language. They sparred together a lot, and he always lost to her with a flush on his face that Miho used to think was from overexertion.

Now she could liken it to the expression Izuna sometimes had around her, especially when she was close to bare skin, particularly when touched her…chest. Ack! Now _her_ face was red. She hid it with deep embarrassment, pulling up her sleeves to cover her lower face. When that didn’t work, she fanned at herself desperately, keeping her gaze away from Hashirama, whose eyes narrowed noticeably.

She kind of thought that a part of her would always miss it…the closeness she had never felt with another person.

“What are you thinking of, Miho-chan,” Hashirama asked in a teasing manner, which only brought up more images she would have rather forgotten.

Sheepishly she murmured, “N-Nothing.”

Mito pulled at her sister’s sleeve, seemingly curious, “Her _ears_ are red.”

“It’s the cold!” Miho sputtered out, set aghast at how openly they were mocking her, as she ducked her head into her collar, spurring Takuya on to a faster lope.

“She’s got a boyfriend,” Mito called back to Hashirama that caught up with her easily.

“He is n-not!” Miho stubbornly cried, stuttering in her haste to spit the words out.

“Do you know who he is?” Hashirama asked Mito, curious even as his eyes remained on Miho.

“Uchiha Izuna,” Mito declared and for the first time in her life, Miho felt like hitting her sister.

Instead, she went quiet, a clear sigh falling past her lips.

In many ways she missed him, more vehemently than she expected to. It wasn’t in a romantic sort of sense, of course, but rather in a way she missed Mito sometimes. Like she had lost a friend, or a brother…no, she couldn’t think of him as a brother, after all. She felt a little sick if she did.

Not after the things they’ve done together.

Friend it was then, a close one.

At the very least she wanted to unwind with him, just letting her head rest on his shoulder as they talked quietly up until the sun rose and he had to leave. The next day she was usually tired out of her wits, but somehow it had been comforting to have someone who listened.

She wanted to think that he felt the same way but a little part of her was unsure about that—he seemed to dance around the times it was his turn to say things. Much like the way Mito or her father acted. As if they thought they were protecting her from something.

He never went into clear detail about his missions, even the ones that hadn’t involved death. She’d tried to tell herself that it was because he didn’t trust her enough to go into mission details but if she were honest, it was because he doubted she could handle it.

 _She_ doubted she could handle it.

Just the thought of blood brought up the sick dreams that still often visited her in the night. Even now she could hear names being shouted in her ear, clear as day, but foreign as the night.

Who would name their child Naruto anyway?

Nevertheless, Miho often thought she was born in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and that there was a sort of helpless quality to her actions. She never thought she was anything special, just that she enjoyed what she did—speaking in the musical sense—but it wasn’t as if she were like what she _should_ have been like.

She’d been a disappointment since the day she was born and had been every day since then, even if nobody told that to her face. It had to be true, especially considering how everyone seemed to dance around her as if she were a delicate flower.

Even Miho thought she couldn’t be trusted with the lifestyle her sister had adopted. Her father had pushed for an earlier marriage, after all, attempting to get her wedded to a plethora of young and old rich men who were in search of someone who would give them sons.

She should have taken the offers, in retrospect.

Otherwise she would have never received the pity mission, and she would have never met Izuna.

Miho would have never needlessly _dirtied_ herself in hopes of doing well.

It made it hurt that much more, just realizing that her father had known the entire time how hopeless she was.

In the end she would forever be the young girl that cried incessantly, the one who had such a weak little paper heart…

“Can I go home?” Miho asked quietly, interrupting the argument that she hadn’t been listening too in the first place.

“What’s wrong?” Mito asked, voice sounding overbearing in that moment. “What about you helping us with the clans?”

“I wouldn’t be able to help,” Miho deadpanned, “I would just get in the way the way I am.”

“What are you talking about?” Mito asked, obviously confused, but Miho could read through the mask easily.

Her sister _wanted_ her to go home, it would keep her safe. It would keep her away from possible dangers, obviously just what Mito would want. Miho was so _tired_ of it; she came to realize with the thought. She didn’t want to be protected all of the time, she _hated_ the idea of it now.

She wanted to help, she wanted to… _why couldn’t she be like her sister?_

Miho felt ashamed just by thinking of it.

“No one will want to join us just because I’m a little bit pretty,” Miho went on, despite it all, “You’re better off waiting for the wars to kill everyone. We all join each other in death, right?”

“ _Miho._ ” Hashirama boomed out with, voice strong as pieces of it ricocheted off on the trail they found themselves on.

She sat up straight at the tone, pulling her hands back with the reigns, Takuya coming to a halt just as the new clan leader rounded on them, facing her directly in her widened, watery eyes.

“Yes,” she whispered in response, trying to look away but somehow held there in the limbo of his observation.

“You _are_ going to keep your promise,” he commanded, firm in his gaze.

“Yes,” Miho weakly agreed, because she didn’t want to be someone who abandoned their word. She was despicable in many ways but she at least wanted to be honest after the long months spent lying.

“Good, now we’ll need to come up with a battle plan, of course,” Hashirama went on, back to his cheery self so quickly that Miho wondered if she was looking at the same person.

Either way, she just prayed things would turn out well for them.

**Rumors Spread Like Legs**

“She left,” Izuna echoed softly after receiving the news his brother had given him, “do you know why?”

Madara shook his head, looking passive and uncaring after saying something he never thought he would hear.

He breathed out slowly, setting down his bag before wiping at the specks of blood resting on his cheek. He’d been planning to clean up before he’d seen her, but now it all felt rather useless. She was gone, never having even stayed long enough to give him a proper goodbye.

“She talked with Ryota before she left,” Madara offered, as if that would be any use to him.

Izuna scratched at his head, lip curling in distaste, “The gardener’s son? Why him?” He tried to convince himself that he wasn’t feeling… _upset_.

His older brother shrugged, arms coming to cross over one another in a calm motion that infuriated Izuna then.

“The boy is at the top of his class, right? He’s the one aiming for a higher position, right?” Izuna rolled out his shoulders, wondering why he suddenly felt so tense.

“You look like you’ve been betrayed,” Madara noted nonchalantly, before a small smirk began to play on his lips, “almost…jealous?”

“Am not!” Izuna vehemently denied even as it felt like he’d hit the right spot exactly. “I just think she should have waited for me. We were… _are_ close.”

His older brother seemed unbothered by it, even turning to leave his younger brother to wallow by himself.

Izuna stopped him before he could leave, asking in a voice he would later deny as whining, “Why didn’t you tell her to wait for me?”

“Why do you care so much?”

It felt like a slap of ice against his skin upon being asked that, and he honestly had no idea how to respond. He didn’t want to explain, he decided. It would be strange talking to his older brother about how, er, _nice_ she was. He especially refused to tell him about all of their sappy conversations or about how cute her nose looked when it wrinkled up…

“I asked a question first,” Izuna childishly exclaimed.

Madara sighed in open exasperation, before looking to his little brother pointedly, “I did try.”

He pulled back in obvious surprise, eyes going wide as he cocked his head to the side in confused curiosity, “ _Why?_ ”

The older brother of the two just stared down at his sibling, eyes narrowing and it was then that Izuna knew he would never get an answer out of him.

Still, Izuna couldn’t help but ask questions, wondering why exactly _his_ brother would go out of the way to do such a thing. It just didn’t sound plausible, even a little bit _strange_. Had they spoken to each other without him knowing?

Madara left the wide eyed fool with his mouth wide open.

**Rumors Spread Like Legs**

Madara would never tell his brother that he’d been keeping tabs on the girl since the first time he’d seen the two together. He had to keep his little brother safe, after all, and everything about her screamed an untrustworthy air. He couldn’t very well leave his brother in the hands of _that_ could he?

What he’d honestly expected to be a simple intel gathering mission turned into something entirely different. The girl did not want to be understood, first of all, as he literally could find no chinks in her story. For all intents and purposes, she had been truthful in saying her family had disowned her—he wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case.

She’d make for a terrible kunoichi.

Too weak-willed, too soft, too _honest_.

Her only saving grace seemed to be her looks and even then she used them unwittingly, clueless to the idea of men wanting her.

What had been merely watching and listening for her slipups, can turned into him begrudgingly helping her out with the men that tried too hard to get her attention—there were too many, it was a marvel how she’d made it in life.

 _A virgin_ , Izuna had told him, before he’d taken that fact away from her the next day.

He didn’t like to think about her, preferred to keep his thoughts on mission matters or learning how to take his father’s place as clan head. But little things popped up and his thoughts ended up going back to her. Most of the time he was notably annoyed by the fact, but sometimes a smile would find his lips before he could wipe it away.

Sakura, he called her in his head, because she sang the song beautifully. Calling her by name felt too close for his tastes, after all, and the nickname suited her aptly.

Of course, he was glad to be rid of her now, hoping she’d never come back to bother him again. It was better for Izuna too, so that they could keep the family line pure and powerful. Soon he would marry a cousin that the Elders deemed fit for his lineage, and soon Sakura would just be a memory, swept away just like the blossoms he’d likened to her.

He would take to the grave the very idea that he simply wanted to look at her face once more.

**Rumors Spread Like Legs**

“It’s a pleasure to meet you again,” Miho said smoothly, bowing lowly before coming to meet blue eyes that crinkled upon looking at her.

“It’s been a while,” Isato Yamanaka exclaimed, smile looking broad, “too long, for my tastes. Have you come to perform? If not, what are you charging?’

Surprised, she lifted her sleeve to cover the blush spreading across her cheeks, “Ah, I’d be happy to do one for free. I feel terrible for coming so suddenly when everyone looks so busy here.”

“Nonsense!” Isato told her forwardly, “You’re welcome here any time.”

“Still, I don’t want to be too blunt,” Miho murmured softly, leaning in to meet his gaze directly, shifting on the pillow she sat on, hearing Mito and Hashirama bicker distantly behind the fragile door made out of rice paper. “I didn’t come here alone, as you can, uh, hear, and my friend has a question.”

“Hashirama Senju has something he wants to ask me?” his brows rose, startled, “What could it be about?”

“Isato-sama,” Miho started, and he seemed to blink at the honorific before listening to her earnest voice, “I made him a promise when I was a young girl. You see, ever since we were children we’ve dreamed of an end coming to the wars that keep us separated. One never knows who to trust in this world, and we… _have_ to change that, do you understand?”

The clan head looked taken aback over the unexpected line of discussion, “Ending the wars?”

“Yes,” she answered.

“Miho-san, I don’t think _you_ understand,” Isato started, regarding her as if she were lost puppy that needed to finally be told the truth, “the wars are what keep our people united. A common foe, you see, creates alliances. Much like how the Uzumaki and Senju clan work in their relations. Ending the wars would mean chaos.”

“But what about the people that had died?” Miho asked, stunned by what he had just told her, “What about _them_?”

Isato pursed his lips and it was then that she realized her mistake. She fell back, raising her sleeve back up to cover up the color of her cheeks.

“My apologies,” she whispered in the air that seemed to quiet down and still, “I spoke out of turn.”

“I’ll have Izumi show you to your rooms,” he said after a long moment of silence, effectively clearing the discussion out of her thoughts.

It was just another failure to tally up, why would she want to bother anymore?

Still, she hated how easily she could have cried in that moment.

Vaguely, she heard Isato joking about a marriage between her and his eldest son, but she couldn’t have cared less about what sort of proposition he had for her when he hadn’t even wanted to hear _hers_.

**Rumors Spread Like Legs**

“What a prick,” Mito cursed underneath her breath, picking at a scab on her arm with a clear grimace on her face, “right? You heard that too, Hashirama. Why are we wasting our time with this?”

“I’ve lost brothers,” Hashirama said softly, looking dejected in the privacy of the room that had been granted to the two sisters. He crossed the room before coming to sit in the middle, folding his legs underneath him, expression pensive as thoughts seemed to weigh on him. “I’ve lost my father, too.” He cleared his throat, looking to Mito with questions in his eyes, “What sort of unity is wanted when it is bought with death?”

Miho pursed her lips, unsure what to say but knowing she didn’t like seeing him with that face.

While Mito stood, looking lost, the younger sister found herself diving in to grab her friend’s hands, meeting his gaze before speaking with a clear voice, “We must first ask ourselves what can be used in place of it. If a union is sought after, what is something that can be agreed on? To replace war, what must we do?”

“What are you implying?” Hashirama asked, brows furrowing.

“Isato-san spoke of a marriage, earlier,” Miho went on, “I could marry his son, and then when he takes the position of clan leader—.”

“No,” Mito immediately interjected, starting to pace around the room with what looked like pent up energy, “No. You will not. We will find another way.”

“But what other way?” Miho asked, already nodding her head to her idea. She’d always known that her marriage wouldn’t be one born out of love. Not even her parents had had the fair luck to have it be a love match. Of course, that romance came later in the relationship, and Miho wasn’t above thinking that she could help in this way.

“Not an arranged marriage,” Mito stayed firm before she looked to her sister, sucking in a breath, “you can’t even be a candidate for it. You’ve been with another.”

“They don’t have to know that,” Miho shot back with, “we have the practice of breaking the hymens when girls our young in our clan.”

Her older sister seemed to fumble in her thoughts, her cheeks brightening before she walked over to join them on the floor, “There’s already rumors.”

“Rumors?” Miho asked, brows raised.

“You weren’t that _careful_ , little sister,” Mito explained, running a hand through her bangs, “almost everyone with contact to the outside world knows you’re close with the Uchihas. The common rumors say you’re pregnant already or that you’ve gotten engaged.”

This was certainly news to her. Miho felt her eyes blink rapidly before she couldn’t help but probe, “What about the less common ones?”

Her sister sighed, rubbing a hand over her face, her coal eyes looking sharper in the quaint lighting, “People like to disgrace the famous, Miho. I thought you would understand that.”

She winced openly, mood souring even more than she thought had been possible, “They’ll think I’m a traitor to my clan, going to the Uchihas after I’ve been disowned.” With a gasp, she raised her sleeve to her lips, eyes widening, “They’ll say I’m a whore, and then Otou-san will hear it.” Her voice went quiet, like a whisper, nearly cracking, “Oh _no_.”

She could already feel the disappointed stare directed her, as he told her why it had been a mistake.

“Miho,” Hashirama spoke beside her, attempting to soother her, “don’t worry.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Miho told him, “I’m not treated like my sister. I’m _different_ , I can’t just say it was because of the mission. Otou-san wanted me to be kept pure, so that I could marry well and now I’ve taken that away from him too.”

Tears were already forming at her eyes but out of pure spite for herself, she refused to let them fall.

Mito blew out a breath, before it formed into a brash laugh, “And so what of it? God knows Otou-san hasn’t always been happy with my actions! He’s always loved you more anyway, there’s no way he could punish you for it.”

“What are you talking about?” Miho asked, hating the way her voice shook.

“Why did you think he set up all those classes for you?” Mito questioned earnestly, “Okaa-san wanted to push for you becoming a kunoichi but Otou-san was the one that gave you the music.”

“I-I didn’t know,” Miho murmured, wondering how it was possible to feel both joy and regret at the same time.

“Of course not,” Mito said, bringing her hand to her sister’s cheek, pressing their foreheads together, “You always think the worst of yourself when it isn’t right…you’ve got to be more confident in yourself.”

Miho had nothing to say to that, meeting the gaze that should have been so similar to her own. In that moment she saw nothing of herself in Mito, instead, she saw their mother; strong, powerful, and serenely gorgeous.

She tried to think of something to say, _anything_ to say but nothing came to mind.

Then, something _strange_ happened.

Miho only felt it like a soft touch of electricity on her skin, which was odd to see when her sister and _Hashirama_ fell on their back, gasping.

“What is it?” she asked, worry etching itself onto her face.

“ _Chakra_ ,” Mito managed to bite out, seemingly unable to move from her spot.

“It’s a bijuu,” Hashirama bit out softly, somehow finding the strength to stand up despite what was holding Mito down.

Miho had no idea why she couldn’t sense it like they could but that didn’t hide the gravity of the situation.

“We have to stop it,” she murmured, coming to stand beside her sister before helping her sister up.

“Why are you so unaffected?” Mito asked but no honest answer could be given, and they didn’t have the time to waste.

“Miho, you have to go on ahead, we’ll catch up with you when we can,” Hashirama ordered her.

Hesitantly, she did as she was told.

**Rumors Spread Like Legs – End**


	9. It Can't Be Helped

 

 **Ｗ** **ｉｌｌ　ｏｆ　Ｆｉｒｅ**

 **_Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ_ ** **_9_ **

_As, come morning, the world had been ransacked by fire._

_The screams painted across the night, lit brightly._

_Not a soul could escape._

**It Can’t Be Helped**

As Miho made her way out of the room, stepping past the doors, the sting to her skin became that much more notable in every second she got closer. The air was heady, hot, heavy. Distantly she could hear voices shouting out—the worst of it being the screams that pervaded through everything else. Women shrieked terribly loudly, ushering their children to places they hoped would be safe and Miho heard all of it.

She’d always noted how her senses were seemingly increased more so than others but it was confusing. Why wasn’t the chakra effecting her like it was the others? If she could feel things that others could not, how was she escaping the effect of the bijuu? Strong enough to hold _Hashirama_ at bay, what was it that made her like this?

It couldn’t be helped.

She would have to figure something out, knowing she was the only one who wouldn’t have to fight through the killing intent.

With her expression changing swiftly to highlight the grave situation, she moved as quickly as she possibly could, breaking into a run. It was at times like these that she loathed her heavy clothes, her inability to fight the cold like everyone else.

But she would still be faster than anyone else rushing to the scene.

Bijuu were like…an impossible storm with abilities that could destroy entire bustling villages just from a single attack. They walked aimlessly, never to be touched by even the strongest of shinobi—the ones who had tried, well, they had been turned into stories, ones that were shared when the wind howled the loudest, when the fire simmered unpleasantly and the air felt _stiff._

She could think of no one who had succeeded in calming the beast. The very idea was strange to her, the fact that she was _actively looking for it_ was strange. She would have never thought that in her entire life, spent separated from the monsters, living on her tiny, pleasant island, could come to an end by something that had used to be told about in her bedtime stories or the tall tales at the orphanage.

Miho knew it was crazy, _insane_ , of her to do this.

She was no proper kunoichi, not someone with the strength or stamina to match up against the others but…she could only focus on her seals.

“It can’t be helped,” she mumbled privately, brows knitting together in firm resolution as she found herself stopping to knock over a vase of flowers. She would regret ruining the craftsmanship later, but in the moment she merely reached down to pick up the sharpest looking shard. Wrapping the base of it around her long sleeve, she wasted not a single second, instantly beginning to hack at her clothes.

It would take too long to undo the ties, too long to stash them away properly.

In the span of a minute she found her fingers bleeding through the fabric of her sleeves but her legs freed from the hassle of her garments. She couldn’t lie to herself about the pain, the way her fingers _burned_ , but she found herself being able to put it aside and _run_.

With her skilled hearing, she moved towards the screaming, and once she began to see the bobbing blonde heads, she ran to where the others struggled slowly to escape from. They scrambled around her, some bumping into her but most of them had stopped trying to leave entirely, and instead she witnessed mothers holding their children close, fathers doing their best to reach their families…everyone had given up and was intent to spend their final moments in the company of their loved ones.

Miho felt her blood freeze at the realization, grinding her teeth together until they hurt.

She could not let it happen—she had to _do_ something!

Sucking in a breath, she looked to the skies, to the horizon in hopes of seeing something overhead. What she knew about the bijuu led her to believe that they were _giant_ , a large entity filled with the powers of destruction with no empathy for the world outside.

When she saw it, she couldn’t believe her eyes.

In her entire life, she never dreamed of witnessing such a thing.

With a light color, tinted slightly with the sort of blue that matched the sky, the creature moved slowly but surely. It’s six tails swayed behind it in an even slower manner, some sort of…muck dripping from its skin. It looked wet, with stubby arms hanging from its chest.

For the most part, it would have looked harmless…but there was something about the bijuu that told a different story.

Miho raced forward, willing herself to hurry up and catch up to it. Her feet rubbed in her sandals to the point that she felt it become wet, saturated in her popping blisters. Red blood quickly dyed her skin as the straps to her geta rubbed away the skin in her haste.

She hissed, huffing against the pain that was zinging up through her legs.

It got worse as she went, grunting against the foliage around her as she crashed into them blindly. Her lungs began to scream for air, her chest rising and falling quickly but she refused to slow down. Even when her usually clean, pure white legs came out with lacerations from the gnarly roots and bushes, she went on.

It was in the moment the slug-like beast came into view that she took a moment to think about her actions…and then promptly felt her stomach sink.

Her skin was burning as she neared the beast, and it was at that second she realized she had nothing to seal the bijuu into. Because that was the only thought that had kept her going, the suicidal mission of saving these people, or attempting to, with the crazy thought that she could manage to place this, _this_ _chakra_ into anything…anything but herself.

With a desperate cry, she found herself using the blood from her fingertips to place it on her wrist, finding her hands shaky as she drew the most powerful seal that could come to mind. But she soon discovered there was not enough space on her tiny wrist. And that the seal was not made to sustain such a being.

Miho cringed, pulling back with a hiss as her skin began to feel _too, too hot_.

In a haze of pain and desperation, Miho scrambled with the knots on her clothes, stumbling after the bijuu as she did so. It took several minutes to do it, but in every second of it she was thinking of what sort of seal would work.

The numbers ran in her head, all needing to match up, and she knew that if it were going to handle even a little bit of the power of a bijuu it would have to be in four, or perhaps a set? Four or eight?  But how would it look?

“Shishou Fuuin,” she mumbled to herself, the four symbol seal. Her father had taught her that one.

But she couldn’t use it, it wouldn’t work. At the very least, she’d be unable to use it because _she wasn’t strong enough_.

With a sinking feeling in her gut, she felt her clothes begin to fall away. As expensive as they were, they were nothing more than a tattered mess now, decorated with leaves and twigs. She only looked at them with regret in her eyes. In that moment, it looked to be a representation of her past.

She was always the coddled girl, the one no one expected things to happen with. She was the one people looked at for her face, perhaps her music, but the one that people dismissed when they realized how weak she was. Miho was not someone that could easily accept her reality, but she was also someone that no one would…care about if she died.

With a sob trickling out of her throat, she brought a shaky hand to her naked stomach, drawing the seal on before she could let herself think.

She was not strong enough—would never be.

But it couldn’t be helped.

Because despite how much she loathed herself at times, despite how bothersome she was, there had been people there for her. Her sister, most of all. Always trying to protect her but never letting her take on that role.

They all knew she wasn’t up to par, but just for that one second…Miho wanted to prove them wrong.

She ran at the bijuu then, hands sloppily forming the hand seals, the only ones she thought that could be strong enough to help her. Then, unbeknownst to herself, chains as bright as light, arched out from her lower back to latch onto one of the stubby legs of the bijuu.

In a blur of pain, disconcertingly vague vision, and an ache to—to _live_ , Miho wrapped her fingers around the slimy skin as soon as she was close enough. With a shrieking scream, she shouted out, “ _Shishou Fuuin!_ ”

Then she felt as if she were obliterated by the white hot _lava_ that began to suck itself into her abdomen.

**It Can’t Be Helped**

Mito felt that something was _wrong, wrong, wrong_ the moment the killing intent just evaporated in an instant.

She had been previously struggling to move, to get up and help the others that were assuredly in need of it. But she had been moving slowly, while Hashirama had been attempting to keep her held up. She had told him to leave her behind, to go to her sister who would surely do _something_ stupid.

But every time she asked, he had said no.

Every second felt like hell, like the screams would never stop and that the _weight_ of the world was not on her. The killing intent felt much like a river, lapping against her with waves after waves of what pulsed into the Yamanaka district nonchalantly.

It was painful, but each time she felt it ebb away, it came back that much fiercer.

The moments seemed to still like that, impossible to really move and impossible to even thinking of it.

That was when it stopped.

With a sharp gust of wind whipping past her face, it only took a moment before the presence seemed to be taken away entirely. It had just… _stopped_. The bijuu couldn’t be seen, not even above the trees. In fact, it felt almost as if it had never been there in the first place.

But by way of the terrified screaming that was happening close by, that had not been the case at all.

“It disappeared!” one man cried out, hand to his mouth while the other pointed to where it had been moments ago.

“It was sucked into something, like it was air or something,” another said, looking dazed, as if being unable to process what he had just witnessed.

“What did she _do_?” Mito hissed underneath her breath, before her face paled upon resting her eyes on the thing that sent chills down her spine. Kneeling down to pick up a bloodied yellow strip of fabric, just one touch told everything about how rich it was. The very thing her sister had been wearing. Earlier that day, even, Miho had claimed the kimono had been a gift from a wealthy man.

And now it was in tatters.

Wasting not a second more, Mito stumbled after the trail her sister had left and had felt her heart beat in her chest like it had never done before. Pounding against her ribcage, each thud felt like a punch to the gut—painful.

“Miho,” Mito called out, her breath shaky and unwilling to believe.

Her steps slowed then, upon finding bloodied geta abandoned. Then, she stopped at the heap of clothing her sister had seemingly abandoned.

“No… _no_ ,” Miho moaned out, bringing her hands to her eyes as from her peripheral she could see it. White skin, stark against the green of the woods. Red hair, matching in with the drying blood on the body covered in wounds.

It had yet to show in this land, unlike the capital Miho should have stayed in. She would have been safe there.

“Mito,” Hashirama murmured, hand coming to her back after having caught up with her.

“ _No_ ,” she hissed, jerking away from his touch before she found herself stumbling to kneel at the side of her beautiful sister.

She looked cold, her skin too pale, too different. Blood smattered across everywhere—how had she gotten so hurt?

Mito absentmindedly brought her hand to her sister’s cheek, still streaked with tears. She stroked the soft skin while holding back a sob upon feeling no breath escape from her little sister’s nose. Her body was too still, too stiff. It just didn’t look right.

_It didn’t look right._

Her hair was still silky, easy to touch, and so much like her gentle sister. It wrapped around Mito’s finger like greeting a friend, and looked so terribly red in that moment. It matched the red of Miho’s lips, her favorite shade to put on in the morning even if she weren’t going to work that day.

It also matched the red on her fingertips, and upon grabbing onto Miho’s long, thin hand, she realized she had been cut deeply. Too deeply for her to have done it, right? Her little sister couldn’t handle the pain. She couldn’t handle it…oh, _no_.

“I wasn’t there to protect her,” Mito said, her voice sounding too weird to her ears. It wasn’t her own. It was too cold, too much like her mother’s. _Their_ mother.

“You couldn’t have been,” Hashirama said, attempting to soothe her.

But she could not listen.

Sucking in a breath, she looked once more at her sister’s preciously beautiful face, “It’s my fault…she’s dead now because I wasn’t there.”

“She saved many people’s lives,” he reminded her, and it felt too terrible to hear him say that.

“I don’t care about them!” Mito broke, feeling a sob be wrenched out of her before she whipped her head around to look at him, “I thought she was a sister to you! I thought you cared about her! How can you _say_ that!?”

He blurred before her eyes, becoming just a watercolor painting.

“Mito,” he said, dropping beside her, “I have lost my brothers. I have lost them because I also _was not there_. I have spent too long blaming myself for it, how else could I make it so I didn’t have her hanging over me?”

“You never cared about her,” Mito found herself saying, suddenly bitter and _sickened_ by him. How dare he. How _dare_ he.

“Of course I did!” Hashirama snapped, “I _loved_ her.”

“Then why did you never give her a chance?” Mito cried out, “ _Why didn’t you give her a chance?_ ”

“Because she deserved better!” he shouted, voice cracking before she heard him suck in a breath, “Because she needed to get away from the life as soon as possible! I knew she loved me, I knew it, Mito. But I couldn’t do that to her. I couldn’t take her innocence away.”

“But you did,” Mito coldly murmured. “She wanted to go home but you made her stay with us. You…you… _told_ her to come with us and now she’s gone. Gone! Because she’s stupid, didn’t you know?”

“She _saved_ people,” Hashirama repeated thinly.

“You describe her as innocent, if you are kind,” she bit out bitterly, “but in other words, she’s stupid.”

“Stop playing the blame game by yourself. Otherwise you taint what she left us with. Her legacy.”

“Legacy?” Mito asked, feeling suddenly too tired and too helpless. Her sister stared up at the world with nothing gazing out, her features so softly surprised. Like a flower who hadn’t been expecting for her petals to suddenly fall off.

Unable to handle looking into those dark eyes, Miho shut them with a shaky palm.

“She sealed that demon into her body,” Hashirama explained, pointing to the seal that Miho had obviously drawn in a hurry. It looked too messy to be considered a work of art, and too red to be considered a thing of beauty. It was as ugly as the mark it would leave on Mito, just knowing her little sister had died a terrible death.

“She should have waited for us,” Mito tried to say.

“She saved those people, all of them,” he simply told her, “Imagine all of the deaths involved if she had waited? With this, no one will ever forget her kindness.”

“But why did it have to be her? Why was it that she had to be the one to do it? Why did she have to give up her life for them?” Mito asked, not expecting an answer but asking away nonetheless.

“Because it was her choice.”

It was with those words that Mito gave up, hand slipping away from her sister as she sunk into Hashirama’s side. She couldn’t bear the idea of it, it didn’t feel real.

She would never hear her voice again…

Never feel her warmth…

“It’s not fair,” Mito murmured softly, “I was meant to die before her.”

“Wait,” Hashirama hissed suddenly, his back stiffening as he leaned over to look at Miho with narrowed eyes. “Look at her hands.”

She did as she was told, unsure where he was going with things, but when she did, her heart began to pound once more. Mito blinked, unsure what to say, or what to even think. More so than the fact that she couldn’t believe her sister was dead, she could not believe what her eyes were showing her.

“It’s been healed,” she whispered, bringing a shaky had to touch her sister’s limp hand before—

Miho’s body jerked up, and from her mouth came a shrieking scream, tearing into the air and attacking the ear drums mercilessly.

Mito jumped back, alarmed and felt her stomach drop. She’d never heard her sister this afraid…this _in pain_.

Miho continued to scream, her eyes wide and soon her hands began to scratch violently at her own throat. Rivulets of red peaked out of reddening skin just as quickly as they closed up and her body, so naked to the ailments of the world, shivered viciously in time with the screaming that never seemed to stop.

Tears were dripping down her cheeks, mixing in with the blood on her neck, painting her white skin even redder than it already was.

“We need to hold her down,” Mito heard herself say and the both of them moved quickly, wrenching her hands away from her neck as she struggled. She was much stronger than Mito would have thought but still lacked the muscle to force her way past the strength of two well-trained shinobi.

“Mito,” Hashirama murmured, “this might not be Miho coming back.”

The older twin blinked away tears but she kept her grip firm, not saying a word.

It went on like that for hours.

**It Can’t Be Helped**

When Miho woke up, she felt different.

Not physically different—she still hurt in places she’d never come to expect nerves to be in—but more like, she felt different down right to core of her soul. She knew why too.

In a way, she should be surprise that she was still alive.

But it was dulled by the idea that _there was something inside her that she could not take out_.

Her body felt warm, covered in blankets and a soft gown, but everything else was cold. _She_ was cold. And scared. And a little bit hungry.

Miho sat up, wincing as her skin burned against having been rubbed against the cloth. Her chest felt heavy, and upon pulling the blankets away, untying the knot on her peach colored robe, she discovered bandages covering her abdomen.

This was to hide the seal, she knew instantly.

Which meant her sister had come to get her in the forest by the Yamanaka compound. Did they want no one to know she’d sealed a bijuu inside of herself? That would make sense; she could already hear the voices calling her a monster. How could she be sure herself that she hadn’t changed with the addition of the Rokubi?

She shivered just thinking about it.

How much had she changed? What had even really happened to her? She couldn’t remember, nothing of what she had just been through had seemingly stuck—well that was actually a bit of a lie.

In snippets she could recall tiny details, but for the most part it was like a blip in time. She didn’t want to remember, she decided. Those glimpses were better off forgotten anyway.

She had enough nightmares as it was.

With a sigh, Miho struggled to her feet, using the wall as support before she stumbled off of the futon, everything sliding off of her body in the process.

“Miss?” a man’s voice called out before he opened the door.

Miho blinked, watching his face redden considerably upon his gaze taking in her appearance. She was naked, the robe having fallen to a heap at her feet, the only thing covering her being the bandages that at least kept her breast out of sight.

The same could not be said for her ass.

“I’m sorry, miss! I didn’t mean to—ah!”

“Move out of the way!” Mito’s voice shouted as the blonde boy disappeared from sight after a hand landed on his shoulder. In stepped her sister, who took one look at Miho and instantly began to cry.

The younger twin blinked, somehow finding it disconcerting to see _her_ sister shed tears when it was so unlike the strong willed Mito. With concern in her gaze, Miho moved towards her sister quickly before grabbing and pulling her into a hug.

“I’m okay, ‘ttekisa,” Miho whispered into her ear, rubbing her back in the process while Mito shook.

“You’re an idiot,” Mito snapped before releasing a hiccup, eyes looking red and puffy. “We’ve been waiting for days, ‘ttebasa.”

“Days?” Miho asked curiously, “How many?”

“Eight of them, and every single one of them we thought you were going to die,” Miho explained, leaning against her little sister for support. Then, she began to laugh—hysterically so.

“What’s so funny?” Miho asked, feeling her face heat up as she pulled away subconsciously.

“Do you just like being naked for some reason? We found you naked, went to the lengths of putting on new ones, and now look at you! Are you allergic to clothes now!”

Miho dipped down quickly to pick up her robe before putting it back on, “I just wanted to see my stomach. Do you think it looks cool? Like a battle scar?”

Mito scoffed, eyes widening, “A battle scar? Cool?”

“Hey,” Miho pouted pointedly, “I worked hard for it.”

The words made her face soften, Mito sucking in a soft breath before letting her shoulders slump forward, her head cocking to the side in what looked like defeat, “I suppose you did.”

Miho hummed in response before feeling herself perk up, “Ne, do you think they have a koto lying about? Actually, any instrument will do. I just feel like singing.”

“Not even an hour awake and you already want to perform?” Mito asked, incredulous but grinned nonetheless, “ _That’s_ the Miho I know so well.”

At the very least, she _hoped_ she was still the same person.

 **It Can’t Be Helped – End**  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References Explained:
> 
> (haven’t had one of these in a while but because so many people have told me about their love for Japanese culture, I’ve decided to teach some phrases among other things in this corner once more.)
> 
> 仕方が無い (shikata ga nai) – “It can’t be helped” or “nothing can be done”. This is a phrase that is used often, and meant to embody the ability to maintain dignity in front of unavoidable tragedy or injustice, particularly when the circumstances are beyond control. This is a phrase with great historical value, so look it up.


	10. Strong Fate

**Ｗ** **ｉｌｌ　ｏｆ　Ｆｉｒｅ**

**_Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ_   _10_**

_“I have seen the red thread that ties us together.”_

**Strong Fate**

For the most part, Miho felt _fine._ Remarkably so. Such in the way that she felt better than she had in a rather long time. Almost as if she could breathe better, or something in the way her skin didn’t feel so cold anymore.

In fact, instead of trying to leech warmth from any furnace she could possibly find, Miho found that she was nearly sweating in her usual thick layers. Also that…things were not as painful as they had previously been—which was rather strange to think about.

Miho, a girl born in the notoriously unbending clan of the Uzumaki, had felt pain her entire life upon some of the simplest of things. Acutely sensitive to the temperature and the texture of things, she had always been rather weak because of it…but why was it that now she had a demonic entity inside of her that she could actually stand to have her hand clutched onto?

It was like a sigh of relief for her but at the same time something alarming and suspicious.

What was the chakra _doing_ to her?

She had no idea and would possibly never know.

Miho doubted any medic would be able to handle such a case as hers. Which made her realize something that she would had really rather not have…she’d become the first person to ever host one of the bijuu inside of themselves.

 _The first_.

It felt weird to think that she had been first to, well, _anything_.

She’d never been especially important and god knows her parents— _shit_.

Her parents.

 _God_ , if only her parents knew what she’d done. They’d never give up on calling her insane—might even kill her themselves under the suspicion that she had become a demon in the process. Had she? Most of this uncertainty plagued her on in the night, when she was snuggled tightly beneath blankets after a day of performances.

It was all she could do, refusing to slip out of her bed and into someone else’s.

Sometimes it was a fear that settled itself deep into her nerves and to the pit of her stomach, and no matter how much she fought against it, Miho felt her body shake beneath the pressure of her thoughts. It was a lot of bear, she sometimes thought to herself if only to allow herself a bit of leeway when she felt her weakest.

Of course, never did she fail to smile in the daytime.

While she feared the beast inside her and what changes had occurred to her body, what Miho feared the most was her loved ones.

In her worst nightmares, always leaving a chill that lasted through the bright sun, Miho had found herself abandoned in a dead wood. There, in that soulless place, held no green foliage or even a peep of noise from animals.

With the vivid image, she had just previously witnessed them running away—fear had been etched into all of their faces but she had no idea how to tell why.

In her confusion, Miho had often tried running after them but then soon she’d only quickly find herself lost in the gray woods. Alone, shivering despite the warmth of her blankets in the real reality.

But then, just as she felt like there was no hope, Miho would find herself turning around; only to see a raven fluttering its feathers and meeting her gaze. It would look at her in disinterest at first but after a moment, it blinked and focused on her face in a way that felt eerily similar to the way a human would.

Just at the peak of her dream, uncertainty filling her soul as she attentively took a step forward, just when she was about to reach her hand out to touch the bird—it flew off in a flash of sound and motion.

Some days she didn’t dream of anything, slipping into a dreamless slumber that felt more comforting than reality. She often wanted to sleep in on those days but those were ones she was usually in need of most.

Day after day spent in the Yamanaka clan’s abode, they had spent weeks there as Hashirama offered to fix and clean up the forests that had been damaged by the bijuu. Apparently the Senju clan head planned to make it his payment for getting the later favor of the clan but Miho wasn’t convinced anything solid would come out of it.

Perhaps with the Nara it would, but Hashirama had yet to cross into their owned land as most of his days were spent breaking out into a sweat over making the mass of large trees that needed replacing.

Either way, Miho just couldn’t wait to leave when he realized the futility in their plan—somehow she thought they would never listen to their thoughts and ideas.

But it was probably half due to her fault at ‘speaking out of line’. Hardly had she ever thought twice about speaking her mind—usually it was even welcomed by others when she talked politics with the noblemen of the country. But sometimes she forgot that others did not take too kindly to that sort of behavior out of a woman.

Albeit being a strange (and quite insulting) thing to her, her father had warned her about it before when she had been taking etiquette classes. It had been during the stretch if her life when he had been dead set on wedding her off early, about when she was fourteen and had bled for the first time.

He’d wanted her to go into a marriage with a daimyo if it were allowed but circumstances with her health had led her into disappointing him. But she can’t say she was disappointed she hadn’t gotten married those many years ago.

Although it probably would have meant she would have never ended up in the mess she was in now.

Either way, she pined for the day she could finally see her parents again and play in the comfort of her old bedroom.

**Strong Fate**

“Two koku then?” Miho mumbled to herself in deep thought. “We’d both be well off for two years with that.”

“What are you talking about?” Mito asked, sitting across the table, clump of rice falling from her chopsticks and back into the bowl.

“I was thinking of my standards,” she explained, clearing her throat with a small smile, “because I have just realized that I have had many suitors in the past. I thought I should figure out what sort of man I would settle down with in Uzushio so that I may have my last name back.”

Mito scowled at that, “You never lost it though.”

“Yes, I did. Or at least that’s what the majority of the country thinks,” Miho murmured, a wry smile flitting across her lips before she continued, “And I’ve heard some of the hands talking in the hallways. Mito-chan, did you know that there’s been more than _ten_?”

“Ten what?” she asked, clearly apprehensive to heat the answer. Never the less, she picked at her rice for a long pause before going in to take another bite.

“Men,” Miho slipped out nonchalantly.

The red haired kunoichi promptly began to choke at the word, eyes going wide as she seemed to struggle to breath. With her hand slamming down onto the table, Mito forced herself to swallow before she hoarsely yelled out, “Who?”

Miho sighed against the palm of her hand, slipping out of her formal position and coming to lean on her elbows, chin placed delicately in her hands. “That’s the thing, I don’t even know the names of half of them.”

“Well, er, as far as how the truth goes,” Mito began, clearing her throat, “how much did they even get right?”

Miho gave her sister a droll stare, wordless at the question.

“Alright, alright! I was just asking; I know you’ve only been with one person.”

“The ironic thing is that, even though the Uchiha were among the list—quite possibly being the only chance they could have gotten anything right—they somehow got the wrong brother,” Miho added, even now feeling amazed at how far the story could grow.

Instantly, her sister looked intrigued, “The wrong brother?”

“Apparently they seem to think that I’ve slept with Madara Uchiha.”

“Huh, _him_?” Mito mumbled beneath her breath, “That’s kind of funny actually.”

“How?” she asked, cocking her head to the side curiously as she stared up at her sister with wide, dark eyes.

“Well, just imagining a guy like that, with _you_ , is kind of weird in and of itself but then Hashirama has this even weirder thing with him that I’ve just never managed to figure out. I was sort of thinking it would be like some sort of fate thing if you actually ended up with him.”

At the mention of Hashirama, Miho froze even as she fought to keep it at bay.

Images flashed in her head—two boys at a river—but she refused to look too closely at it and instead forced herself to laugh.

“Like that could ever happen, Mito,” she whispered weakly, trying to keep an upbeat tone.

It suddenly felt too strange to think about the man that had oddly tried to stop. It was even stranger to bring Hashirama into the mix.

**Strong Fate**

Miho was not a fan of political dinners at the Yamanaka clan estate.

At them she could only keep her silence close in hand every single time someone tried to meet her gaze. Most of the time she tried to place more interest in her food than anything else but more often than not Miho was too curious to let her gaze rest on anything for too long and she somehow soon found herself breaking smaller rules she had set up for herself.

Like not eyeing the better looking men and sizing up the ranks of nobility between them all.

There was a daimyo in their midst that evening it looked like.

Normally Isato would have sat at the best seat, being set on the higher level with the tokonuma, showcasing a painting of the Yamanaka family crest. But instead a man, looking to be in his late forties, sat there with all the prestige of an emperor.

He was no emperor though—unlike many others, Miho had once been in attendance as a performer for the man and he had been _much_ younger.

Which begged to be questioned; who the hell was he and why was everyone so nervous around him?

In the _air_ , Miho could feel the straining of gazes that tried not to look to the man too closely. Power also seemed to exude from him but she was almost certain that the man couldn’t have been someone of such great importance.

He felt dark to her.

She tried not to show it on her face, however, as she continued to eat the finely made food. It was probably made for his attendance, she realized, as Miho had yet to taste anything so delicious in the time of her visit with the Yamanaka.

A daimyo? She didn’t actually think that was the case either; her father had made her memorize all of the names of them. His name didn’t ring any bell, however, and she felt lost because of it.

“Do you know who he is?” Miho whispered, ducking her head to be closer to Hashirama, who sat to the left of her, closer to the mysterious man than her.

Helpfully, the Senju clan head nodded before whispering back, “He’s in the royal family, the uncle to the Emperor.”

While her eyes widened at the new knowledge, she merely nodded in understanding before turning back to her rice with new questions in her head.

Why would such a man be there? She could think of no reason that a member of the royal class could deign to sit with one of the shinobi clans. Except maybe it was that he was hiring them for a job. But then…even _if_ it was for a job that only the Yamanaka could handle…

Miho shook her head, suddenly fighting with a shot of frustration before turning to look at the man once more.

That was when she nearly jumped out of her skin, barely managing to cover up her startled yelp with a cough.

He was looking at her—dead on and with no obvious inclination to look away.

Self-consciously, Miho set down her chopsticks and began to pick at the lining of her simple gray kimono. Lately she hadn’t been able to wear the richer garments due to the lack of them in her immediate belongings. Most of them had been sent ahead of her to Uzushio when she had been under the impression that they were heading to her island. She felt just a bit naked without them.

Since her young age, when she had been called beautiful or eye-catching, she’d thought that perhaps it was because of the clothes she wore. There was no mistaken in calling _them_ such words, but when it came to herself, Miho took on a stance that was worse than humility.

While she had been working on it recently, in the past she couldn’t hide the fact that she used to feel like nothing but an instrument dressed in beautiful robes.  

Now, with him staring at her and no idea why he was, she had to think it was because of her unusually red hair or that he might mean to be staring at her sister who sat to the right of her. Either way, it was unsettling and she wanted him to stop.

But he didn’t stop, and instead spoke up, his eyes burning holes into her, “Is that Uzumaki Miho that I see?”

Isato halted in his rambling of words to slide his glance in her direction before he hesitatingly nodded, “Yes. She’s here visiting with her sister and their guardian, Senju Hashirama.”

“Ah? The Senju head has deigned himself to escort two young ladies…where?” the man asked, Tatsuo, she thought his name was. He smiled, his two perfect set of teeth shining in their whiteness. She’d never seen teeth like that…

“To their home,” Hashirama spoke up, smiling an obviously fake smile in return. The man would have failed to notice anyway as his gaze still lingered, making her shift uncomfortably in her seat.

“Ah, Miho-chan,” Tatsuo directed his tone towards, shifting gears so fast that she felt her head spinning before she could even make sense of his question, “you’re one of the top performers of the country, yes?”

She nodded dumbly, unsure of what else to do as she tried to hold onto a pristine smile.

“There’s been a lot of talk about you lately within my family,” he went on, probably having not even cared to have an answer from her in the first place. “The Emperor himself still fondly recalls the time you came to his home and performed. Despite being among the bells of the country, he says you stood out among them.”

Hesitantly, Miho bowed her head low, “Please, when you see him next, tell him of my gratitude.”

She hated how weak her voice sounded to her ears.

“Certainly,” he responded, and to her relief, he finally looked away from her and to the Yamanaka clan head with a wide smile.

Pursing her lips as the conversation continued on lightly, Miho picked back up her chopsticks and took only tiny bites for the rest of the evening.

**Strong Fate**

“Was it just me or was that guy beyond creepy?” Mito asked, scoffing to herself as the twins walked down the halls and away from the festive atmosphere of the dinner turned party.

“No,” Miho quietly agreed, “I felt it too. Especially with the way he…”

“Looked at you,” Mito finished for her, scowling at her own words, “like he wanted to own you or something. Jeez, can’t believe some men.”

Upon hearing the sharp words, Miho about yelped as she looked around them hurriedly before hissing out, “You shouldn’t say such things. He’s in the royal family, after all.”

The older twin merely snorted, “Yeah, whatever. As if that means anything to me.”

“Still…you should be careful,” Miho reminded her, sighing to herself before shivering, “ah, I don’t know why but I…I don’t feel too well right now.”

“Not well? What do you mean by that?”

She swayed in her steps upon the question being asked, stumbling over her toes before Mito reached a hand out to steady her.

“It’s just nausea,” Miho whispered, bringing her hand to her lips before she could begin to retch.

“Oh my,” a sudden voice said behind them, startling them both.

But Miho felt too awful to even let herself make another peep, fearful that it would mean spilling out the food she had just finished consuming not even a few minutes ago.

“Ah, Kohaku-sama,” Mito said, using the last name of the royal family with an obviously forced demure attitude, “excuse us, it looks as if my sister has fallen ill.”

As if summoned up by her words, Miho couldn’t stop the convulsions in her stomach as she forced herself to keep everything down.

“It would look that way,” the man said before making his way closer to the twins. “If you would like to follow me to my room, I do happen to have some medicine from the royal doctor. Perhaps you might feel better after taking it.”

They both stiffened at his words and despite how it could have been just as easily otherwise, Miho felt like this had been planned. But how could he have possibly affected illness?

“I’m afraid,” Miho started, fighting as hard as she could, left hand clutching at her mouth with her right placed tightly over her stomach. She took as deep a breath as she could manage before continuing, “I’m afraid that I must decline. It would not be proper.”

“Nonsense, you’re feeling sick!” Tatsuo insisted, completely disregarding Mito’s presence, “It will all be explained so no rumors may arise against your beautiful name.”

Miho couldn’t help but look sharply up at that, brows raising at the mention of rumors. He didn’t know about the already existing ones? It wouldn’t be too odd for that to be the case but something just felt… _wrong_.

Yet before she could continue to decline, he brought his large hand to grasp onto her upper arm, pulling her away from her sister.

Mito’s eyes flared up with anger, “What are you doing?”

Tatsuo’s own gaze merely looked bored as he addressed her with a seemingly fake smile, “Don’t worry, she’ll be back to feeling her best very soon. Now, if you’ll just come this way,” he murmured lowly, close to her ear.

Inside she panicked, looking back to see her sister gazing at her with worried eyes. But she was too afraid to speak against the man’s wishes—one never had any idea what sort of actions the royal family would take but everyone _did_ know that they were allowed to do it.

So, as they turned the corner of the hall, heading into a place she had never actually been to, Miho began to come up with dumb plans that she figured she could get away with her state.

_If he tries anything, I’ll throw up on him._

It sounded like a good idea but just before she could do anything else, his hand, clasped tightly, almost painfully, on her arm, shoved her forward before taking a strong hit at the side of her neck.

Then, she was merely met with only the color black as everything else faded away.

**Strong Fate**

Miho woke up to voices.

To be specific, there were two.

And one was _familiar._

“She’s a liar anyway,” one of them said, sounding tired. She was too afraid to try to identify it but most definitely it was a voice that she had known…. a little too well.

 “Hn,” a new one intoned, less familiar to her but if she just thought a bit, a guess as to who it was wasn’t that far away.

“So why did you send Yuichi to get her?” the first voice asked suddenly after a chilling moment of silence.

“Because we don’t know what she knows, Izuna.”

Miho internally cursed upon hearing the name spoken out loud. It only meant one thing; they’d found out and now she was going to be killed.

That also meant that the ‘royal family member’ was not who he said he was and instead _Yuichi_. No wonder it had all felt so wrong.

“I already told you that she got nothing out of me,” Izuna bit out, “Hell, we never even talked about our families. It was like she wasn’t even trying to gather intel.”

“You seem to have forgotten her relationship with the gardener’s son,” the second voice repeated and Miho remained diligent in not trying to place a name. Her inkling was scary enough to think about. If it was the real deal, she had no idea how she would react.

“Madara.”

 _Shit_.

“Madara,” Izuna repeated, having no clue that their captive had just broken out into a cold sweat, “he wouldn’t have anything important anyway. It’s not like we all start talking willy nilly.”

Silence filled the room at that but before long it was broken by a short, monosyllabic response, “Hn.”

Miho had no idea what to think. Was Izuna sticking up for her? But why? Hadn’t he started to hate her guts the moment he figured her out?

“She’s awake,” Madara announced, setting her pulse racing as she let her eyes open.

No use trying to hide it.

“Miho,” Izuna started, coming into her sight with a worried expression painting his face. It only made her more confused—why?

She tried to move but instead found herself tied to a chair, hands and legs strapped down tightly. Her body felt numb the more she tried to wake up. In just attempting to move her hand, her entire arm began to buzz like a million swarming wasps were covering her skin. She groaned against the strong sensation, sucking in a breath of air.

“What, are your limbs asleep?” Izuna asked, coming forward to rub at her arm with his expression intensifying. So did her muddled mind and physical pain. “I told them not to tie the knots too tightly but I guess they didn’t listen.”

“Izuna-san,” she whimpered out, “I’m…” _Sorry. Afraid._ _Confused._

“Izuna, you need to leave,” Madara said, placing a hand to his brother’s shoulder and pushing him aside.

“What? No—.”

“Leave. I will not say it again.”

Miho could feel herself pale at the tone of his voice but Izuna seemed unfazed.

“Fine,” he relented out of what sounded like exasperation. He sighed, looking to her one last time before turning his back to her.

Suddenly panicked, she wasted no time with her words, finding that they poured out like water when giving them the chance too afraid that, otherwise, she’d never get the chance to say them, “Izuna-san, I’m sorry I lied to you!”

He halted in his steps, shoulders stiffening before he turned, looking at her from the corner of his eye. Then, his gaze flashed to where his brother stood. Wordlessly, he shook his head and walked out of the room, each footstep seeming to ring in her head.

Miho let out a breath, practically made of pure nervous energy at that point. She kept her gaze pinned to her knees, trying not to shake but feeling her body succumbing to the fear that nestled deep in her heart.

“Look at me,” he intoned powerfully, and despite herself, she did.

And really wished that she hadn’t shortly thereafter.

**Strong Fate – End**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References Explained:
> 
> Koku – a measurement of wealth for samurai in feudal Japan. One koku would be the amount of rice to feed a man for a year, equivalent to about 180 liters (around 400 lbs).
> 
> Tokonuma – or simply toko, is a built-in recessed space in a Japanese style reception room (where, if guests were around, everyone would eat in), items for artistic appreciation can be displayed there. A lot of the time it was the family crest or a piece of poetry.


	11. Reminiscence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, this chapter may be a bit disorienting and a few may not like it with its filler-ish characteristics. While not technically a filler in my eyes (as there's big importance in this chapter for all the characters involved), some may look at it that way.
> 
> /I'm just worried that someone will find this boring/
> 
> Also, I wrote this specific chapter listening to Sakura Nagashi (by Utada Hikaru) and I think it really somehow suits Miho, so yeah, that might set the mood for you, like it did for me.

**Ｗ** **ｉｌｌ ｏｆ Ｆｉｒｅ**

 _ **Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ** _ _**11**_

_In loving memory,_

_let the past stay buried, as_

_memories that come from the inside,_

_can easily tear someone apart._

**Reminiscence**

At first, nothing felt wrong—she didn't feel any pain like she had come to expect from the Uchiha clan, from the stories that had spread about them being practically monsters with their abilities. But overall, in comparison to the other surprises she got later, this one was the most pleasant to experience. Instead of the assumed agony, it was actually rather pleasant. Pleasant in the oddest way, being so strange that she could hardly relax long enough to even enjoy the feeling, but possibly being too vague to even _want_ to.

It was almost indescribable, save for the only comparison Miho could manage to draw in her haze of confusion; the feeling of being _sifted_ through.

As if her very soul had been picked up like a pile of sand, fingers reaching in, wading through the gravel before sweeping away the seemingly unimportant grains—remembrances. Almost like they were picking at the pile of larger, tiny pebbles and _searching_.

The feeling of being a box with no top, only being filled with sand, with a thousand memories that coated everything inside except for what was outside.

But...wait. Why was she thinking of a _box_ filled with sand? Even the image of the thought brought the idea of something she had never seen before; a strange _substance_ —Miho did not know what to call it—colored red encased the brown boring sand. Then, when she envisioned going in to touch it, she could somehow bring up an idea of how it felt; smooth, almost like dried wax.

She swallowed, shaking her head.

It seemed kind of weird to just go out and put sand in a "box" when it was already by the beaches in the first place. Transporting it also sounded weird to her but she did know that a few of the richer families had bought sand from the Uzumaki in the past—but they'd never put it in a _box_ for _display_. That sounded too strange for her to wrap her head around.

It was then that she felt a sea breeze, as powerful as any others she had felt before. She almost thought it was because of her strange ability to recall sensations but before she got ahead of herself, Miho looked up. Then wished the hadn't as promptly as she caught the sight of a woman's chest being revealed from a particularly risky piece of fabric that seemed more holes than anything else.

In her eyes, she could look down at her body to see herself still tied to a chair but _everything else had changed_. Including her _own_ clothes.

Her skin, bare for the world to see, was darker than she'd ever seen before and with darker _hair_ than she had ever seen before on herself. Even her thighs were naked with the only thing covered up being—thankfully—her chest and lower region by an odd fabric that was colored a bright, cherry red.

But it did not end there.

Strange fabrics littered the floor, sometimes empty, and sometimes with half-naked people in similar clothes, like the ones Miho wore unwittingly. Weird little strings would hang off of some, and weird shapes cut out in the fabric gave off the appearance of a liberal people that did not care to be seen at their most indecent.

Her cheeks flamed just seeing the lot of people crowding around on the beach, laying on their stomachs or their backs. It felt like seeing a private moment when she laid her eyes of them, and she jumped every single time her eyes accidently wandered too close to them.

She didn't know what to do, faced with a sight she had never thought to be possible.

But then another little part of her had been swept away, cleared through as the sifting in her soul sand continued, and soon she was in another place entirely.

Almost too grateful, she did not mind the sight of her scenery morphing around her but as soon as it changed, she almost wanted the beach back. At least there she could feel the breeze and watch the waves. Here, it was almost unbearably quiet and cold.

The walls were somehow a white color even without rice paper, and weird looking drawings were posted on the walls so real looking that she wondered where such a wonderful artist had been hiding. But then she also noticed that her restraints had gone missing and she was sitting in what looked like a futuristic high table chair. It rested just above her knees, metallic circular bars closing her in on one side and with the other, the side of her where another person sat, she could already see herself swinging out of the chair.

Her skin color was still noticeably darker, an almost greenish hue with it in the dreary coloring of the room.

It was with that she also noticed that, instead of her gray kimono, she wore a startlingly short blue skirt, decorated with strange ripples into the fabric. She wondered how anyone could possibly make such tight folds. Even when she wiggled in her seat they did not come apart.

That was right about when a hand came soaring down and onto her head.

She jumped, her heart quickening in pace by the tens as she brought a hand to her chest.

" **Mabel? Are you feeling okay?** " a voice murmured in nonsensical noises that did not make sense to her ears but somehow she could understand every word of.

Wait.

She needed things to slow down— _h-how_ _was this even happening?_

Hesitantly she almost thought it was a genjutsu that Madara had placed on her and it almost made sense but then…

" **I'm fine,** " she heard herself saying with no thought to initiate it. She had no idea what she said but ultimately it did not matter; because she could understand herself despite not ever having heard the sounds in her life.

Which begged to be questioned; who was Mabel?

Before she could think long on it, however, the voice patted her head and walked past her.

It was a girl that had been speaking, dressed with a warm looking grey material covering over a crisper white shirt, matched with a similar blue skirt. The girl's skin, darker than anything Miho had ever seen in her life, shone despite the terrible lighting, her dark brown eyes glimmering and her bright teeth revealing themselves as she smiled.

She was _beautiful_.

And then she laughed, the sound sending flashes up flashes of brand new images into her head, all of them bizarre and wholly unreal. Smiling faces all light up, hair mussed up despite the best attempts at keeping it presentable, and even scenes of the girl shoving weird looking foods into her mouth as if it were the most delicious thing in the world. Then, most important of all, a name came with them.

_Danny._

She wanted to cry; how could she forget? How could she forget the person she had loved the most…

Miho shook her head, suddenly confused at the thought.

Like two rivaling realities, Miho had never seen that girl until that moment, but a part of her seemed to hate the casual write off of the person standing before her.

Miho couldn't help but look down to her hands, utterly conflicted and terribly confused.

What was happening to her? What sort of genjutsu was this?

**Reminiscence**

While Izuna knew that Madara wouldn't be exactly hurting her, he still couldn't help but be worried.

Especially after her last words, the very ones that still rang in his head with all of the emotion her shaking voice could handle to show.

So genuine in her words that it had honestly taken him by surprise and had made him want to instantly untie her because ultimately, he trusted their relationship enough that he'd think she'd answer their questions. Even the ones like, how the hell are there rumors that she had defeated a bijuu?

The very same bijuu that had reportedly gone missing on the day it had attacked the Yamanaka clan. The spy they had there was quite the reliable one, he thought, but it had been the sort of story that had even Madara looking surprised, albeit with only one of his eyebrows being raised to express it.

It was curious enough to look into, sure, but even he had thought it was too much to have Yuichi put on a show only to bring her to their privately owned hideout nearby to the Yamanaka clan home. All for just an interrogation over story that could very well be fake?

But then a little part of him couldn't shake the fact that Miho also _felt_ different. Her chakra seemed more level, whereas in the past it was so erratic that when he'd first come into contact with it he was more surprised she was still functioning despite the intense pain she must have been feeling.

He only knew what he'd been told by the rare medic in the field, but he had known instantly her chakras were imbalanced.

And yet when he had first seen her, slumped in the arms of Yuichi with his satisfied smug, she had looked every bit as perfect as usual but with her chakras more at peace than ever—and with a little extra something mixed in.

He'd still been unable to identify what it even was, which is what made him give in to Madara looking into her mind in the end. Except he was actually regretting it on a second thought, upon hearing the soft mewling cries that came from her, carrying over through the thin paper rice doors. It sounded as if she were in real pain and although he knew with certainty that he did not exactly _love_ her, he still liked her enough that it pained him to hear it.

"While beautiful, she seemed sort of dumb to me," Yuichi said beside him, arms crossed over his chest as his dark onyx eyes narrowed up at Izuna. "I don't understand what you like about her so much."

At that, the Uchiha sighed, shaking his head, "It's _because_ she's dumb that I like her so much. See, it's more like she's innocent. Innocent! Like she'd never lost a speck of her childhood nature. Isn't that fascinating enough to want to protect it?"

"No," Yuichi deadpanned.

His body deflated but in this thoughts it couldn't have made more sense to him.

Miho was an anomaly that didn't fit into his world of bloodshed and violence, and didn't seem to fit in anywhere with a soul like hers. It wasn't that she was pure...it was mostly due to the fact that her way of thinking seemed oddly kind, sweet in the way that meant death for most but had led to an assembly of protectors in her case.

Even now Izuna could still admire her good nature, her ability to bring in the people around her with that warmth that didn't seem real. _She_ didn't seem real. But she was and it astounded him.

She embodied that kind of peace he dreamt of which was also probably why he could never see himself with her romantically.

While wanting to protect her, it would always be because she represented something Izuna had lost hope in when he was young; a dream of peace. If he were honest, he even regretted taking their relationship to where it had gone because there was not a doubt in his head that she had been a virgin at the time.

He almost didn't think anyone would be allowed to be with her in this world, especially not when most only had blood, sex, and anger in their hearts. They would probably never understand the warmth she contained and while he feared it could someday be beaten out of her, he also thought that it was an impossible task.

Every time he saw her, she just looked brighter than the time before and he couldn't help but think about how impossible that felt.

**Reminiscence**

The friend had officially taken her to said friend's house—a place that Miho could probably never properly describe except for saying that it was _purple_. A _blue house_ ; Mito would never believe her if she told her of it.

At that Miho couldn't help but sigh.

After having just walked from the terrifyingly unsafe building she'd just been in (how could it have possibly had so many stairs!?) Miho had become too tired to even get surprised anymore. To sum it up, everything had been weird.

The roads were weird, the fashion was weird, the architecture was weird, and _the people were weird_.

Miho was near sick and tired of it. She certainly did not want to stay and instead longed for the moment she'd get to go back home—which might not actually even happen, considering her current situation of having been taken by the famous Uchiha clan brothers. She'd probably never even see her family again, and that was a real fear to take into thought, especially with her having been the person who wronged them.

On the other hand, perhaps being in this weird reality wasn't so bad?

Danny certainly didn't treat her bad and if she didn't take into account her own biases, she thought the place would have been rather nice. It was especially uncrowded after all, so much different from her home and the air smelt different, a little bit sweeter. Even the birds looked more unrestricted, soaring low and swooping up into the air with little dives.

There was also a garden close by and not one that she had been told about, but one she instinctively knew about from somewhere deep inside.

She could somehow hear the voice of Danny in her head talking about the community garden but Miho had never actually physically ever had that discussion—in fact she had yet to actually make a choice of her own or even ask any of her own questions.

Everything was scripted, as if everything was somehow already planned and she had just been taken along for the ride _._ But something seemed off, and not just with her situation but with the girl Miho had somehow ended up in.

Mabel's heart was racing quickly, her hands shaking the entire time they walked and entered the house. The hair on her arms raised up noticeably and despite the heat, she had a hard time keeping them down. But she never spoke a word about why she was so petrified and instead kept reiterating one line: _I'm fine_. She most certainly was was not though.

Miho thought it might have something to do with the peculiar device Mabel had been pulling out from her bag, touching it and pulling up strange images—texts, her subconscious readily supplied—on a surface that felt nice to touch. Every single time her heart would start beat faster and her fingers would stumble to back out of the image before transferring into a new one.

The words that she read before attempting to ignore them, however, were certainly _not_ nice.

In fact, they were horrifying.

Curses and insults, it come from only one person by the name of Will. They told her to meet him with the sort of threats that she had never heard before and the sort of information that gave Miho an entire new perspective on Mabel and raised even more questions about what she had gotten herself into.

' _I'll tell everyone that it isn't mine.'_

' _No one will believe you.'_

' _Get rid of it.'_

' _I'll give you the money to do it.'_

There was only one response back from Mabel, just three words but it had taken more than a minute to type it out and send;

' _I won't kill.'_

It shook both of them up considerably and as she slowly walked up the stairs in the house, hand tightly grabbing onto the railings, Mabel made her way after Danny and into a room that felt so familiar and yet so distant. Miho blinked, feeling an odd sense of having been there before but it having been a while since she'd taken a step inside.

" **Let's watch Naruto, maybe that'll cheer you up**."

Naruto...it was a word that felt like on the tip of her tongue and not in the way that it was a topping on her ramen but like it was a name of someone she had once been fond of.

Either way, Mabel seemed to calm at the words of her friend as they crossed over and fell into a heap on raised up platform—a bed—before Danny reached to grab a black stick—a remote—pressing into it. Almost instantly at her actions, a once gray screen lit up with colors before Danny seemed to navigate through her options.

It was then that Miho zoned out, having long since given up on understanding the sort of futuristic technologies that the world had seemed to be coated in. She was much more interested in the thing Mabel kept touching, the thing she wanted to call a phone.

" **Look!** _ **See**_ **, it's Madara! Your favorite villain of all time!** " Danny tried to cheer, bringing her hands out to shake Mabel by the arm, obviously trying to help her friend forget her troubles.

Miho looked up then and felt herself freeze while at the same time Mabel relaxed into the blankets, letting herself sink into the action unveiling itself on the screen.

But what Miho saw scared her.

Because it was just like those dreams of hers, the same ones she has had since she was a small child. The images, although with a lack of detail that made it less real, looked strikingly similar to people she _knew_.

Madara, on the screen, looked just like the one she knew, long unruly hair with eyes shining with red. Then there was Hashirama, regret filling into his expression as the two continued to talk and then...

The memories continued to pour into her consciousness.

**Reminiscence**

Mito could not _believe_ it.

Who had taken her sister? _Why_ had they taken her?

She felt her grab onto her horse's leash tighter, walking him out of the stalls with barely restrained fury. The beast seemed to sense her emotion as it demurely walked alongside her, causing not even a hint of trouble for her. It was those sort of small blessings that she was thankful for and the sort of thing that somehow pissed her off more.

"How could I have let that happen…?" Mito asked, her words being grounded out in her haste to get them out of her mouth.

"How could you have let what happen?" Hashirama asked, coming out in front of her just as she navigated the black horse out and into the open, hand tightly squeezing onto the leather strap in her hand.

At his question, she looked to him straight on, the start to tears welling up in her eyes as she whispered, "Miho has been taken."

"Yeah, I already knew about it from when you told Isato," the Senju nonchalantly murmured, nodding to himself, "I just don't think you should be beating up yourself about something like this though. We should be able to find her soon."

"Hashirama, I'm not sure if you know but my sister has been taken! By people we don't know! How are we you going to be able to find her?"

"Actually that isn't the case," the brunette began to explain, closing the distance between the two of them to bring his large hand up to her face, cupping her chin there with his eyes locked on hers, "I think that it may have been people she, and well _I_ , know very well."

"Who?" Mito asked, eyes wide with questions and worry.

"Ah, don't freak out if I tell you," he murmured, bringing his lips down to kiss her forehead gently.

She pulled away, scoffing, crossing her arms, "If? _If_ you tell me? Come on already! Spit it out!"

"The Uchiha," Hashirama said, wincing before putting out his hands in attempts to placate her as she instantly began to fume, "and it might not be as bad as it sounds!"

"Damn it! How do even have the balls to tell me that it's not bad! It's the _Uchiha_."

"Yeah," he admitted, "but I happen to think that they won't hurt her because as much as my father hated to admit, our methods could at times be very similar."

At that, Mito narrowed her eyes, quiet in thought before murmuring out, "We don't have time for this, Hashirama. If you help me find her…I'll go on a date with you, okay?"

Upon hearing her words, he gasped, eyes lighting up before saying, with a brightly lit grin, "Ok, I think I might know where to find them!"

**Reminiscence**

" **Mabel, what's wrong?** " Danny asked, pausing the images on the screen with the remote as Mabel's body suddenly slumped, her body being struck with sudden _agony_.

Inwardly, Miho gasped and if she could, she might have been screaming as a rapid, inexplicable fear filled her to her core as simultaneously, a thousand scenes, words, voices, and thoughts rushed through her. She did not understand what was happening but more than that, she was far more afraid for Mabel, whose pain coated everything in that moment.

" **Danny! Call 911,** _ **please**_ **,** " Mabel ordered through tightened teeth, clutching at her stomach with one hand and her phone with another. She tried to offer it to her friend but the girl had already rushed away from the bed in search for another one.

For a moment, as soon as she was gone from the room, Mabel struggled to get herself in a proper position but soon gave up when it only caused even more pain. She began to cry, her body shaking with the fear that became the only thing she could make out in the rush of emotion that brought her to the worst pain in her life.

" **Danny!** " Mabel cried out, afraid that too much time was passing—she needed to hurry, she need to _hurry_.

" **I'm right here, Mabe!** " Danny responded, appearing at the doorway with a phone in her hand as she shakily dialed the numbers. Bringing it up to her face, she nervously began to bite the nails of her free hand before rushing over to her friend upon watching her slip off the bed.

" _ **Fuck!**_ " Mabel screamed out as soon she fell to the floor, watching in horror as blood spread through her jeans and seeped through to the floor. " **No, no, no,** _ **no**_ **.** "

" **Holy shit,** " Danny whispered, before blinking, " **uh, yes, um, my friend…I don't know, she suddenly started feeling pain and is now bleeding…yes, I'll try asking her now…no, I don't know…hold on, give me a sec.** "

Before needing any more prompting, Mabel somehow got the courage to murmur out softly, grunting against the pain, " **I'm twelve weeks along in…** _ **ung**_ **…my pregnancy.** "

" **You're** _ **pregnant?**_ " Danny stared, eyes wider than they have possibly ever gone before she coughed, turning back to the phone, " **she says she's pregnant…uh, seventeen, yeah. Please hurry, dude, she's bleeding,** _ **a lot**_ **.** "

Mabel had to chuckle at her friend's bewildered tone of voice, as if she sounded unsure if she should panic or not. But then, as soon as she tried to laugh, another wave of pain echoed through her body as a gush of blood fled her.

At that she pursed her lips tightly, afraid to move even the slightest with only a meager hope that her baby would still be okay. Oh, _god_ , she hoped that the baby would be okay. Not even two days ago she had gone out of town to get a checkup and had seen it for the very first time in her ultrasound she could actually _see_ it.

The thing growing inside of her, the thing she would one day love with all of her might and would _protect_.

But this was not how a mother protected their baby—not by losing it after a mere three months.

A mere _three months._

Mabel began to sob at the thought, bringing her hands up to her face as she fell back onto the floor, feeling yet another gush between her legs as her eyes filled with tears. Her voice rang out loudly as she refused to hold back, terrified that the life she had planned on loving was going to disappear just when she had come around to accept it.

" **Mabel, they said they'd be thirty minutes. Something happened that they're not telling me, but I think everyone's busy with something** ," Danny tried to explain, blowing out a breath of air, " **This is why small towns** _ **suck**_ **.** "

 _No, no, that's too long_.

She couldn't wait even a minute more, let alone thirty more of them.

But wait they did…and soon the thirty minutes transformed into one very miserable hour, spent on the floor of her best friend's bedroom, soaked in her own blood that Danny spent her energy attempting to clean up with old towels and napkins, face pale the entire time as the both of them waited in bated breath.

Yet the waiting did not end there.

As soon as Mabel had been picked up off the floor and transferred to the tiny hospital, one look at the parking lot filled with cars told her it would be a very, very long wait.

" **You can sue for malpractice, I think,** " Danny hissed underneath her breath as soon as they found themselves situated in the emergency room, Mabel only half conscious on her gurney.

" **These people need it more** ," Mabel whispered watching burn victim after burn victim enter into the large room that had been filled with hectic clutter as the people scrambled to take care of everything. It looked like some sort of hell in that room, the air smelling of blood and gasoline.

Even the cries of the people filling in, the screaming agony she could hear in their voices, it made her want to get up and walk out.

The baby was already gone—she could wait more and they had come into the wrong hospital anyway.

After all, she was only still there because she needed to get rid of the rest of it before she got an infection. A quick D & C procedure would take care of that, right? Then it would be a done deal, wouldn't it be?

Her baby was gone and on the inside she felt dead.

It was then that a frazzled doctor walked over, eyes sweeping over her quickly as he asked, " **Has anyone been here to see you?** "

" **No** ," Danny answered, her hands tightening over Mabel's.

From there, their voices blended into each other as, before long, she found herself giving up, slipping into her wordless thoughts that were filled with sensations more than anything else. Nothing mattered anymore, and all she had left was the pain still ringing clear in her chest along with the slow beat of her heart.

" **A miscarriage can be left without a procedure. We should be able to prescribe some antibiotics and she will be good to go home, okay? If you go back to the nurse's station, you should be able to get her release forms. I'll write up a prescription before the both of you leave, sound good?** "

It all sounded so rushed as he spoke to Danny and she visibly changed, brows creasing, " **Good? No! I want you to give her a full checkup—**."

" **Let's go** ," Mabel whispered, pulling at her friend's hand.

Danny hesitated but then at the look in her eye, she nodded slowly before turning away and walking out the swinging doors with heavy steps.

Quickly, the doctor grabbed his notepad from his chest pocket before hurriedly scribbling words down onto it and giving it to Mabel before walking off without another word.

Danny returned minutes later, clipboard in hand and soon after, the both of them were walking out of the hospital doors. With Mabel being held up by the taller girl, they meandered slowly to the small, tiny car Danny had driven after the ambulance.

" **Fuck, I can't believe this,** " she growled out as soon as she turned on the ignition.

" **It's okay** ," Mabel whispered, slumping into her seat with her hands gripping tightly to her stomach. Her head felt too light at that moment, as if she were up in the clouds but she was also too dizzy to even know if she wasn't.

" **It's** _ **not**_ **, Mabel. This is fucked! You were pregnant, didn't even bother telling me, then you go and bleed all over my nice wooden floors! Fuck! And that man, so fucking** _ **rude**_ **. I mean, duh, he had other patients but…but…** "

" **I'm sorry** ," Mabel murmured, turning to look at her friend, reaching out with her hands to touch Danny's shoulder, " **I'm so sorry.** "

She was quiet for a moment, pulling out of the crammed parking lot with a pensive expression painting her face. Then, softly, Danny whispered, " **No apologies, you fucking dumbass.** "

" **Roger that**."

**Reminiscence**

Miho could not withstand it anymore. No _more_.

Because now she knew all of it; every single aspect of Mabel's life and how she died three days after the miscarriage in her bedroom, surrounded by the flowers Danny had brought from the community garden. Nothing had smelled quite that sweet in all of Miho's memories as Mabel had laid there wishing only to die.

Some might even say she died of a broken heart.

Miho knew better, knowing oh-so well that it had been an infection, gone untreated due to the silence of a girl too afraid to live with the guilt and the loss.

It was too much—Miho wanted out of this world and back into her old one. She wanted to see Mito again, and her parents. She wanted to hug her dad again and smell the rich perfumes that her mother wore. She wanted to see her friends, to speak with them another time after all the days that had passed since she'd last seen them.

She hated these memories. She hated what they meant and hated that she could now understand how strange she was.

But most of all, she missed it.

Not Uzushio, but rather the small town Mabel had grown up in, and Danny—god, how she missed her. She also missed her school and her classmates, the boyfriend that she'd left behind despite his utter rejection of their child. She even missed her mother, who had left her when she was only nine and had long since been someone not worth counting on.

She ached to see the sunshine in that place once more, to feel the moist spray from the crashing waves at the top of the cliff just outside her house.

But soon…everything fell apart once more, the entire world shifting in colors and atmosphere before soon, Miho came to see Madara, standing before her. His eyes were dark as he met hers, lips pursing before, silently, he turned from her and slid open the paper door. Then, he wordlessly left her there, tied to the chair.

But instead of staying silent, Miho could only let herself hum the pain away, slumping in her seat as all the energy left her. The melody felt sad just as it felt mournful, a song about loss. The type of song that Miho had never let herself sing before as it had once felt wrong for her to.

But now was different and she couldn't stop it from slowly shaping into something that impeded itself deep into her chest, a song she was sure to never forget.

**Reminiscence - End**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References Explained:
> 
> Natsukashi – something nostalgic, a very common phrase used to describe emotions coming up from remembering the past.
> 
> D & C – a procedure supposed to be taken place after a miscarriage, usually when it takes place more than ten weeks after conceiving. It stands for dilation and curettage, and basically it's where the rest of the matter is taken out to reduce chance of infection.
> 
> Miscarriage – the loss of a baby, most happening in the first trimester. I've read that some can be very painful while others can be painless. In Mabel's case, well, hers was obviously on the former side.


	12. When The Flower Blossoms

**Ｗ** **ｉｌｌ ｏｆ Ｆｉｒｅ**

 _ **Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ** _ _**12**_

_Swaying and blooming like a pink cherry blossom,_

_She was born as a flower in the upheaval,_

_Where everything burned and dyed red,_

_As the flower petals spread open._

**When The Flower Blossoms**

"I thought it would be very different..." Miho whispered, head resting in the crook of Izuna's neck upon being released from the chair and carried to the futon in the back of the room. He laid with her without needing to be asked, hand smoothing out her hair despite the moisture from her sweat fighting back. Miho swallowed, looking up into his eyes as she softly murmured, "Not as much confusion as it would have been pain."

Feeling a bit better than before, Miho was close to feeling back to normal as if she were back to her own reality. Mabel seemed so far away in that moment, just feeling the warmth exude from Izuna's chest.

"Torture does not work reliably," he murmured in her ear, "people will say anything you want them to underneath extreme duress. Because of this, we have much different measures that we take. It's not exactly painful but it is extremely intrusive. Sometimes in the process things can get a little out of hand but because of it, we've never gotten any bad information."

"Because you use your eyes," Miho noted, lightly smiling, "just like the rumors."

Izuna seemed hesitant to say more, mouth opening only to close but then, he shrugged, "Yeah, we do."

"You could have just asked me," Miho murmured quietly as soon as a calm settled between them, "instead of just going into my head. I would have given you all of the answers, probably."

"Yeah, probably," Izuna responded back, a smile in his tone.

"I mean, I probably would have just said that I sealed it into a tree of something to be honest. Maybe it was better this way for you guys but I don't know what's going on anymore."

"What do you mean by that?" he asked, sliding down to rest his head on her stomach.

Absentmindedly she brought her hand to touch his hair, brushing her fingers through his unruly locks before answering, "What kind of relationship should we be having? 'Cause I like this, it's nice, but I know that we are not in love with each other."

"I don't know, but...I think that this should be the last time."

It hurt to hear the words but only slightly as Miho found herself nodding instead.

With that, they fell into comfortable silence, sharing in each other's warmth as Miho thought of all the things she had learned in the past day. Like how she had been another person in another land—not to mention the fact that she knew of a timeline in her current world via the collection of books and an animated show that Mabel had once been so fond of.

One could become quite confused at what that would mean for them but Miho found herself unable to panic. Everything simply felt too far away, with little chance of harm coming her way inside the arms of a man she somehow trusted despite the voice telling her not to.

Izuna was a kind man after all, someone with good sense and clear purpose in his actions. He never seemed weak to her but most of all, he had been someone who seemed to innately accept her as if he understood her despite the gap in their world.

The ally to their enemy, after all, but here she was, laying with his arms wrapped around her waist and her fingers curled into his hair.

It was then that she thought of her past life, or more like, the _memories_ within her past life. The very ones where she had once watched something that impossibly told the future of her current world. She had no idea if it was actually truth but from what she could gather, the details were strikingly similar to her reality.

Vaguely she could recall her sister talking about the strange relationship Hashirama and Madara had, and if she were right, she could take a guess as to why.

Mabel had liked Madara after all, and so as she slowly learned more about the past she had come from, she came to understand her place in a way she had never seen it as before. If what she knew was correct, then terrible things were in store for the future, all centered around one man; Madara Uchiha.

All of those nightmares she had growing up, all of the uncertainty wrapped around picture of people she hadn't even known, they all sort of made sense now that she thought about it.

Long before she'd ever known of him, she had dreamt of him of course, just as it was with Hashirama. But she'd always tried to forget about it, trying to hide the fact that she was different from them—she didn't belong like they did after all.

In her memories, in the show she had so fondly watched, Miho was never a character in the show, which meant her presence was not meant to be but somehow was.

She wondered if it meant that she should change the history, to prevent the many deaths that would occur, but a part of her was still too afraid to think or even act on it. Miho did not know Madara well, after all, and for all she knew, he would want to kill her.

Miho knew that he'd gotten the information he wanted about the bijuu from what Izuna had told her earlier as he had been untying her, but she wasn't sure if that was all he got from her. For all she knew, Madara had watched her entire life's story and perhaps knew her better than anybody else.

But the thought was terrifying—she did not trust him.

Miho realized in that moment that if she wanted to, she could be absolutely _furious_ about the invasion of her privacy, especially when she had no clue as to what had been taken from her and what had been left alone. She knew that if she wanted to, she could possibly leave then and never look back, that she could give up on the Uchiha clan and go back to her home, find a nice man and settle down.

She could have done that, sure, but the moment no longer felt light.

Instead, it felt _pivotal_ , a moment that would affect everything and not just herself.

Yes, she could leave but at what cost?

In her memories, Izuna would die soon, in a battle with Hashirama's brother, Tobirama. It was just a matter of time until everything unfolded as it had once already. But she had a choice that she never would have thought would fall into her hands.

Should she join them or take a back seat and watch it all happen?

At that, Miho's hand paused in Izuna's hair before she cringed at the thought.

No, she wouldn't let it happen.

She couldn't live with herself if she walked away on Izuna, a person who had never done her harm.

Sensing her change in mood, he shifted himself up from her stomach before coming to rest his head beside her, asking quietly, "What's wrong?"

Pursing her lips, she turned to look at him unsure of what to even say that would explain everything. In the end, she slowly grabbed one of his hand, bringing it to rest on hers as she began to fiddle with his digits, whispering softly, "Everything's going to change, isn't it? Soon the clans will start to fight again and I'd be your enemy, more than I already am. I don't know why but…I'm more scared of that then death…because it means that anyone could die, even you."

Izuna exhaled a sigh that caressed against her cheek before he turned onto his side, bringing his forehead to the side of her cheek, murmuring quietly against her, "Miho, don't be afraid. I won't die and we won't be enemies."

She couldn't stop herself from shaking head as her grip on his fingers tightened. "Izuna-san, back when Madara-san was inside my head, I…remembered some things."

Noticing the change in her demeanor, he pulled slightly way, just enough to meet her gaze as he propped up his chin on his one free hand, "Remembered what?"

"I remembered why I'm so strange, why I never fit in and why I was always so weak, so fragile, why I could never do things like my sister could. Everyone, my entire life in this world, has tried to protect me from it, trying to keep me from feeling pain but they never could because…I've always had it in me. Regrets, sadness, anger. It's been here, inside my chest. Even growing up, I, I had nightmares that never left me, worries and fears that seemed idiotic but still stuck…Izuna, but now I've _remembered._ "

"Remembered what?" he asked, brows furrowing as he let his fingers be wrapped in her own.

With that, Miho smiled broadly, laughing to herself in an almost hysteric fashion, "I can't exactly tell you, it confuses even me! But, now…I _know_. I know who I am and nothing has ever felt so right. Izuna-san, I've never felt so whole before today, never have I felt more present in this world than I am now and, god, _I love it_."

With a confused expression, Izuna tried to smile but most likely failed to understand, most likely worrying if she had gone insane.

But she had not lost her mind and it was because of that that Miho could not be brought to anger against Madara. Instead, she felt almost thankful for what he had done.

"We won't be enemies," Miho murmured softly, a smile clearly spreading on her face, "we'll be comrades. Izuna-san, would you help me?

"Help with what?" he asked absentmindedly, eyes on their hands.

His were marked with scars and rough in hers, but somehow she liked them even more than her own, which only made her grin wider, "Help me bring peace to the warring clans. Help me unite them."

Izuna opened his mouth, eyes widening at her suggestion but just before he could reply, they both jumped when the rice paper door came crashing in.

At the entrance, her sister stood, eyes narrowed and with a clearly hate filled expression on her face, "Give me back my sister!"

Izuna took his hands away, holding them up in blatant surprise. Then, he slid a glance in Miho's direction before whispering, "Get back to you later on that."

"No talking!" Mito screamed, charging into the room before Miho could scramble up fast enough to stop her.

"Wait!" she cried out, holding up her hands to pacify her sister, but like most Uzumaki, it was not a simple task.

"No, I will _not_ wait! I've been waiting for hours after being on that cursed horse and I am _tired_ and _upset_ and Miho, we really need to go home because this entire plan is stupid anyway and we won't even make it happen," Mito snapped, voice shaking before her hand reached out to wrench Miho off her feet, swinging her body up into a cradled position.

Miho flushed, looking up at her sister with widened eyes before quietly hissing out, " _Mito_ , _put me down_."

"I will not," she retorted unkindly, spinning on her heel to walk out the door.

But long before she even took her first step, they both felt the flare of chakra before Madara appeared, expression dark.

"You're not taking her," he simply said, in a tone that begged for not questions and only action.

Mito tensed up, "And you're going to tell me to just leave my sister with _you_? That would be worse than death!"

"Ah!" Miho squealed just as her sister tried to adjust her hold on her body, watching as her kimono slid up on her body to reveal her naked legs. Her blush darkened as she gazed up at her sister pleadingly, "Mito!"

"What did I miss?" a new voice entirely asked, walking up just behind Madara with a gleeful expression on his face. Hashirama Senju casually rested his hand on the Uchiha as he gave a small wave to Miho, who struggled to roll down her kimono.

Without even a second to be spent in what was a considerably awkward situation for all of them, they all felt the sudden spark in chakra before Madara swung out his leg, tipping Hashirama over before his fist moved like lightning in Miho's eyes, slamming into the Senju's face as he was sent flying, smacking and utterly destroying each wall he came into contact with.

Her jaw went slack in witnessing the wreckage but there was no lull.

Before her very eyes, Hashirama appeared behind Madara once more, and this time he slammed his own fist into the Uchiha's face, laughing as he did it.

"An eye for an eye, right?" he asked, smiling broadly despite the oh-so obvious bleeding nose.

Miho couldn't catch mentally, still stuck with the image of Madara being blown off into god knows where.

But just like Hashirama had done, he came back in a flash, a slight curve to his lips—Miho thought it was too presumptuous to call it a smile—forming itself awkwardly on his face.

She might have thought they were having fun if it weren't for them beating each other into smithereens.

Mito took this as her chance, quickly rushing out of the room with the flustered Miho in her hands. She almost made it entirely out of the house but before she did, it was Izuna who flashed in front of them, arms crossing over his chest.

"You stop here; we still have business with her."

At that, Mito carefully let down her sister, who quickly scrambled out of the way as soon as her twin began to fume. As if standing on static, the oldest Uzumaki's red, vibrant hair began to float, the delicate buns coming undone as she cracked her knuckles.

"No you don't!" she shouted, before slamming her fists down into the ground, an entire chunk of the earth raised up inches high before coming back down with a spray of dust.

Miho yelped, nearly slipping in her haste to get away from the cloud but unfortunately found herself coughing as soon as it closed in on her.

Mito and Izuna looked unaffected as the two of them closed the distance, both of their hands moving at a speed Miho could not keep track of. Then, right before her eyes, a blast of water appeared out of thin air, only to be met with a bigger flame set out from Izuna's mouth.

They were both in the air at this point as Miho watched with wide eyes.

She had never seen a fight this close in person and by god, it was _terrifying._

Still in the air, Miho was not expecting to see it, but when she did, she lost all ability to even think at that moment.

Like a sailing bird, Madara's limp body slammed into Izuna's just as Hashirama jumped into her view, a large smile on his face. But before he could reach where the two brothers had landed, they were already up, each charging up an attack of their own.

And then, much to her surprise, as Hashirama's fist nailed into Izuna, the Uchiha, eyes widened in surprised, unleashed a spray of fire headed right in Miho's direction.

" _No!_ " Mito screeched into the air, clearly rushing forward to stop it, hands already preparing for a justu.

But unconsciously, Miho was also moving, closing her eyes to what would assuredly impact her—it didn't.

Instead, Miho felt a sudden flare coming from the seal on her abdomen, it burning just a slight bit before Miho's scream reached a whole new level. It was not from being hurt, however, as Miho was too afraid to feel much else.

In a sudden flash, felt a part of her mind slip just a bit as it filled with a potent amount of annoyance that she had never known her to have. Like a click, she didn't even note a difference in the way her skin felt as it began to coat itself in a considerable amount of slime.

The fire disintegrated on impact as she found herself shrieking, placing her hand to chest as parts of her kimono began to fray. Her skin also burned, peeling beneath the slime as she yelled against it. Then, before she could even get a handle on what was actually happening to her, she instinctively felt herself reaching out to the seal mentally.

And soon found herself calming down, the slime somehow receding back into her skin just like the oddly congealed chakra she found herself in.

The rest of them stood, looking at her with wide eyes—even Madara looked somewhat impressed—before Izuna took a step forward, "Did she just…?"

"Saiken!" Miho unexpectedly shouted, as the name came to her lips uncalled for.

"Holy shit," Mito murmured, voice carrying over by wind alone, "my sister just used the power of a bijuu."

 _More like Saiken just used my body as a medium to use his abilities to block the hit_ , Miho guiltily thought to herself but found that their amazement felt too good as a boost to her ego to tell them the truth.

Her skin stung, she realized when trying to stand up—terribly so. Hissing into the pain, she closed her eyes and only then just felt the cool breeze touching her burning skin on her shoulders. Her cheeks flushed with a mixture of the heat exuding from her body and an odd sense of embarrassment.

They had all just seen her legs, her shoulders, and now, as her kimono slipped off, she was left in the dirtied and just as ruined undergarments.

It didn't even matter that Izuna had seen much more, and possibly Hashirama and her sister after they'd discovered her after the bijuu sealing but still, she hated being looked at when she looked in such a disastrous state. Perhaps it was because most of her pride rode on always being impeccably dressed, or perhaps this entire she had been much more narcissistic than she thought.

Either way, Miho couldn't take it anymore.

She grimaced against the pain before crying out freely, "All of you are idiots!"

Then, with as much dignity that she could muster, absolutely _refusing_ to shed the tears at the waterline of her eyes, she stood up, gathering what little fabric she could from the floor, and hobbled her way back into the destroyed house to look for bandages to clean her wounds and a change of clothes.

"Miho!" Izuna's voice called after her, getting closer as footsteps sounded behind her, "I'm sorry!"

"It's not entirely your fault," Miho answered back as he matched his footsteps with hers, "This is what happens anyway, when people fight without waiting to have a conversation."

"I don't think a _conversation_ would help anything back there, Miho," he retorted, rubbing at the back of his neck. As if on cue, voices broke out into an argument behind them before fading into background noise the moment they crossed into the wrecked house.

"That's where I believe you're wrong," she told him simply, keeping her eyes glued to the front of her, "after all, a conversation is what leads to understanding and forgiveness."

Izuna sighed, shoulders slumping, "Look, I want to believe in peace. I really do, but Miho, did you see what just happened? If I joined you, my brother would never forgive me—and I'm the only one he even tolerates!"

"You don't know that for certain," Miho replied back stubbornly, trying not to pout, "did you not think I had a plan when I asked you earlier?"

At that Izuna began to blink, "P-Plan? From you?"

She tried not to be offended by his choice of words as she tried to stick her clothes back together, "First, do you have medicine? And another set of clothes."

"Uh, yeah, hold on a second," he murmured, looking to be frazzled as he disappeared from her sight.

He came back a minute later with a navy tunic, the Uchiha crest clearly imprinted onto the back, along with a white pair of shorts. She sighed just looking at them, already missing her array of luxurious kimonos that had been sent on ahead of her. Wordlessly, she gestured for him to set them aside before she took the box in his hands into her own.

"You know first aid?" he asked, which only received a half annoyed, wordless grimace as Miho not so subtly began to undress, hissing as she peeled up the fabric from her blistered skin. Taking note of her actions, Izuna through up his hands and walked out, grumbling beneath his breath about her having changed for the worse.

She couldn't help but smile to herself about it before she began to clean her wounds.

Of course she had learned how to doctor injuries—it was the only thing she had shown any real promise in when she had still been attempting to be a full-fledged shinobi. Of course, she didn't know a lick of iryo-ninjustu, which made the process slow and tiresome but before even fifteen minutes had passed, Miho found herself beginning on the wrapping of her body in bandages, grimacing against the entire process.

A little part of her actually wanted to go up to Hashirama and smack him in the face.

Even she began to wonder what exactly had gotten into her to be so bold.

**When The Flower Blossoms**

Hashirama sneezed as well as winced upon feeling the fresh sting of his facial injuries, trying to stand stiff as Mito continued to seethe around the fully unimpressed Madara who, even to the Senju's surprise, stayed statue still until his brother wandered out from the house.

"She's pissed," Izuna announced as if it were a surprise, "and will need some privacy, uh, while she treats her wounds and gets dressed."

At that, Mito deflated, giving up on the raven-haired man before coming to sit, cross legged, on the floor with an obviously dissatisfied expression, "I officially hate all of you, including you Hashirama."

"What?" he asked, beginning to pout as he went in to join her on the ground "why?"

" _Why?_ Because you almost just killed my sister!" Mito shouted, clearly giving no cares about her loud volume.

Awkwardly, the Uchiha brothers still stood, a minute distance away from each other as the unspoken truce carried on.

"She's not dead though," Hashirama explained, putting a hand out to touch the woman he had been infatuated since the very young age when he had first laid eyes on her. His very first love. Actually, if he were honest, that had been Miho when she had smiled at him, albeit forced, when he'd seen the _both_ of them at the greeting banquet when their families had met after a long time apart.

But then he had to remind himself that that silly crush ended about the same time as when his little brother Itama admitted later to feeling similarly. It also went unspoken amidst their family that the little princess was not to be touched under any circumstances.

He could still remember fondly the way his father had lectured them all, telling them every which way in how they were allowed to interact with her especially—which was not all but even as a young boy he had never been the type to listen. Mito, in comparison, hadn't even been mentioned once the entire time making him think, at the time, that perhaps Miho was a little more special as a kunoichi.

When he found out it had been the exact opposite, it had been almost laughable and he was quick to understand that while Itama held onto his crush even to the date of his unfortunate death, they would have never been able to marry.

After all, she was meant to be with a fancy lord who had never so much as looked at a kunai, let alone picked it up.

Mito growled abruptly, bringing him back into the moment before he got too lost in his memories, "Didn't die? Do you have no sympathy for the pain of others?"

At the question, Hashirama looked at his future wife in amazement, "Of course I do, but I just know that Miho is strong enough to handle things on her own. If she needed the help, she would have asked for it."

He was sure in this analysis of the awe-inspiring woman who had once stolen his heart in the midst of a night spent together talking about creating a better world for everyone. Sure, Miho used to cry a lot, but most of the time he thought it was because she was too babied that everyone thought she was too weak to do anything.

Admittedly, at a time when he was much stupider, he had also thought similarly.

Kind of like in the times where he had made her wait for hours just so he could clean himself of blood, even the smell of it, before seeing her again. He didn't want her to be uncomfortable after all, and certainly didn't want to scare her. But soon, as he tried to ignore the obviously hurt expressions on her face that she shouldered with a smile, he came to realize something very special about her; Miho was strong.

Sure, not like he or her sister was, but strong in the way most weren't.

Endlessly, she never lost the kind, gentle streak in her, never once letting the peace in her heart get tarnished by the unwarranted hate in the world. Part of it could have been because of how protected she was, but somehow he didn't think that was the case. Miho was too aware of her situations, too clear in her understanding of the world that he found it hard not to believe that she wasn't as strong as her sister was physically.

She was just the sort of person perfect to change the world with.

And he could already see that, unknowingly, she already was.

Otherwise, he strongly doubted they'd be at a standstill with the very family that had been his enemy for a very long time.

While even he had to admit that he had the instant knee-jerk reaction wanting to completely pulverize them on the spot—but that had more to do with his father's conditioning and less with his personal vendetta against them, which was almost non-existent as, since long ago, he'd already forgiven the deaths of this people by their hands.

He just wanted to end it all now, to stop the cycle of hate that had consumed both of their families for more generations than he'd like to admit. Enough, he was already too tired of burying brothers into the ground when they all had so much to live for—namely destroying the Uchiha clan if his father had gotten his way.

The point was, Hashirama loved his brothers, loved his father, and while with the guilt that came with going against the entire notion he had been raised on, he could still fondly remember him, and especially that little girl singing in the dark and smiling at the promise of peace.

Everyone already knew anyway; Hashirama was not the type to break a promise.

**When A Flower Blossoms**

As soon as she finished with the last of the bandages and having delicately put on the Uchiha clothing, Miho soon realized an unfortunate truth; her hair had been singed beyond repair, the ends shriveled up from the heat of burning.

Horrified, she had spent more than a good minute mourning the loss of elegantly long hair, the very locks she had spent most of her life growing to length she had. It was heavy, sure, but it was something she took immense pride in, just like the rest of her clan who let their hair naturally grow out. It was symbol of their honor, with the cutting of hair sometimes being used as the punishment for minor misdemeanors.

But to the best of her knowledge, Miho had nothing wrong, and here she was, angling a kunai at her hair, having undressed to spare the clothing a shaggy makeover. She felt squeamish just looking at it but it had to be done if she ever wanted to grow it back without risking great damage to her hair. Besides, it would also get the distinctive burned smell out of her nose.

So with bated breath and her eyes closed, she hacked at her hair so much, blindly going at it until she ended up with tears in her still shut eyes and shoulder length hair so uneven she felt almost hopeless at seeing it grow back to its former brilliance.

With a sigh, Miho stood up and brushed off the strands of hair that stuck to her bandages before picking up the Uchiha clothes and putting them back on with an air of regret in her attitude. She found irony in that, despite her heavy footsteps, she felt physically lighter than she had been in a long time.

It was with that same attitude that she stepped out of the house and back into the sights of the four silent shinobi that had somehow kept calm the entire hour it took her to get fixed up.

She huffed out a sigh and walked up to them, wondering why they couldn't have been so calm in the first place.

"Excuse me," Miho numbly spoke up, watching them all look up at her and noticing their reactions occur in varying degrees.

"Hair…" Mito mumbled quietly, mouth coming to hang wide open as her eyes focused in on her younger twin sister.

"It was too damaged to save," she explained, feeling about as glum as she probably looked.

Then, with a bit of surprise, she noticed how Madara pointedly looked away, while Hashirama and Izuna openly flushed. Uncertain, she tugged at the tunic, confused about their reactions. Were they embarrassed for her?

"Curves…" Izuna mumbled just as quietly as Mito had before coughing loudly as soon as he realized his mistake.

Miho blinked, looking down at herself before coming to blush profusely and gasping at how the fabric of the bandages and the tunic clung together. Even she was surprised to see curves and angles that she had never seen on her body before she picked at the tunic and restored it to its flowy nature.

She missed her many kimono and sorely regretted her actions in packing her clothes into those crates even if she had paid the men in five thousand ryo (far above what the actual job called for).

With a small tiny sigh, Miho found herself acting bolder after having spent more than a good half of the day uncomfortable, unhappy, and _fed-up_. Stepping forward, she came to stand directly in front of Madara before speaking to him, "We need to discuss something very important in private."

"Miho," Mito called out, sounding shocked.

The man looked at her then, and with a gasp she realized just how very similar he looked to himself in the show, it was almost uncanny now that she could remember most everything concerning his future. But instead of wilting away in fear about the sort of person he'd become, Miho stood firm, pursing her lips and trying to look determined.

"Why?" the man intoned deeply, his eyes meeting hers sharply.

"You saw it. You know what will happen…or do you?" Miho asked, coming to realize one very big detail, "I seem to remember that I read the _books_ more often and even if I did watch the show, it was only the dub because my friend only _liked_ dubs. But, you've at least seen it, and by that you can infer a lot. So…we need to speak in private."

At her words, barely noticeable if she hadn't been so close, she wasn't lost to the slightly annoyed grimace or even the tightening of his jaw. He said nothing, only turning on his heel and walking off. Taking that as her answer, Miho followed close behind and ignored the loud protests raising in her wake.

When they finally stopped, it was not to her surprise that they can come to stand beside a small tiny waterfall that was still loud enough that if anyone tried to eavesdrop they'd have a very hard time picking any of it up. Which was most likely why he had even bothered traveling the fifteen minutes to get there.

Miho walked up to him, making sure that he could still hear her before say began, "You've seen it, Madara-san. You've seen that I have had a life before this and one that has impertinent information about this world and especially the future of the Uchiha clan. And while we both can even go near understanding why that is, it would be better if we took it as fact the things in which I saw in my memories, because so far they have been very, very accurate."

"Hn," the Uchiha clan head hummed, nodding his head in agreement.

Miho couldn't help but sigh out in relief before clapping her hands together, "Great—."

"So you want me and my brother to help you," Madara interjected, hands coming to fold over his stomach, "and what is that you plan to do?"

Miho swallowed, unsure of how to word it as she recalled how much Madara was against the Senju clan. She looked off to the side and then shyly, she mumbled out, "To unite the clans."

She hadn't been expecting it when the man, tall and practically a mountain of a man, began to laugh. It was a soft tiny chuckle at first but within moments it grew, loud and clear in her ears. She immediately flushed but still tried to stand tall, refusing to feel embarrassed at her words.

Upset, Miho began to yell as loudly as she could to be heard, "The type of person that can't pee with someone standing behind them! You can't show your feelings deep down without showing your guts! I agree, Hashirama-san's outfit and hairstyle when he was younger was completely lame but I still liked him!"

Madara turned silent, eyes widening as he visibly took a step back.

"The both you had been planning for a better future. Back then, the both you wanted a society where children didn't die on the battle field for grudges and revenge. You both wanted a place where the average lifespan wasn't thirty years old! To become stronger and hold onto those ideals, and for you to make that village with a school for the kids alongside him, the person that just so happened to come from a clan that your family hated," Miho sucked in a breath, prepared to go on but before she could, his hand came down onto her mouth, halting her abruptly.

She froze, making no moves as he stared down at her intently.

"It wouldn't work. Back then…we were both idiots that had no idea what would come next," he murmured, bringing his face in closer to hers.

She tried not to shake but couldn't help it as sweat began to bead at the top of her forehead. His had tightened across her mouth, to the point that it was almost painful before he shoved her. Falling to the ground, she hit the dirt painfully and with a loud yelp of pain.

But before he would walk off, Miho quickly stood up and ran after him.

"No! It does happen!" Miho called after him desperately, "It _will_ happen! Konoha, the village hidden in the leaves, just inside the fire country. A place where the Academy is created as well as a police system that the Uchiha clan run to protect the civilians. A place where the kids can grow up and are only given missions that they can handle. A place, a _home,_ where the father of the village is the Hokage and the people can live peaceful lives within the walls. This is the village that, alongside Hashirama, you will eventually create with the pact of many clans. But, Madara-san," Miho cried out, reaching out to grab at his black shirt, "the cost of it…the price that _you_ end up paying before you agree to it…" Miho trailed off, too afraid to speak the words that she prayed wouldn't happen.

"What is it?" Madara asks softly when she goes silent.

Sucking in a breath, Miho brushes away the tears before she whispers, "Izuna dies."

"That's a lie," he hisses beneath his breath, "I would be there protecting him."

"No, Izuna dies," Miho insisted, "in a battle that ends with your retreat against the Senju clan, who was too powerful for you to beat with the allied clans outmatching you."

"When?" Madara asks roughly, his voice gruff.

"I only know his age when it happens," Miho whispered, "because Mabel had this strange love for the Uchiha clan. Which must've somehow stuck with me, because if it hadn't been the case, I doubt I would be here now, asking for your help."

"Because my clan is the one losing, is that right?" he asks, turning to face the Uzumaki girl with a dark expression, "Is that also why they get obliterated in a single night by the hand of one of my clansmen?"

"Itachi…" Miho breathed out softly before blinking, "How did you know?"

"Ah…Mabel was rather obsessed with him…"

Miho flushed, somehow embarrassed for her past life which only made the situation all the stranger.

"Um, I'm not, I mean, uh, about Izuna…I'm not _obsessed_ with him, okay? I mean, I want him to live…but that's all."

"She also really liked me for some bizarre reason. Even had posters of me up in her room," Madara went on, only sentencing Miho to even more second-hand embarrassment. Because it was painfully true that after Kakashi Hatake, Mabel had found herself unnaturally obsessed with the man who planned to place the entire world in a dream. Which did not speak volumes about the girl's standards.

Miho sighed, "We're getting off track here."

"We are," he murmured, his eyes peering into her own with a clear struggle inside, "but I cannot promise you what you want. My members would never agree to this."

"You haven't heard my offer yet," Miho retorted, then couldn't stop the smile that blossomed on her face, "Hashirama was right when he said your weakness was judging things preemptively and getting things wrong because of it."

"Says the woman that has yet to even hear my complete answer," he responded, just a touch of a smile resting on his lips.

It was then that Miho found herself flushing, eyes widening at the sight before she looked hastily down to her toes. No wonder Mabel had liked him so much…his smile could practically kill.

"Well, go on then. Tell me your offer."

Her gaze flickered over to him before she blew out a breath of air and prepared herself for rejection, "Well, you've already seen that…I'm the host to the bijuu. A jinchuuriki, and you've also seen that I know the future."

"Yes, that much can't be argued," he responded, already looking annoyed.

"So, I've become prepared to offer myself to you, entirely, body and soul," Miho said quietly, trying to sound tougher than she was and not as if the entire prospect of her words didn't already scare her to death. She went on before she could chicken out, bracing herself as she found the will to continue, "You can use me however you want but only if you join forces with Hashirama. This is…this is what I am able to give you and it might not even be that much, especially because of how hard I know this must be…to join your enemy…but because of that I will give you a year."

"A year?" Madara asked, sounding much more interested in that over the fact that she had just offered her eternal servitude—which did not translate to good things if things actually went through.

"Yes, a year. For Hashirama-san to prove to you that he will be able to uphold his promise, and to prove to you that this unification is possible."

"Why specifically that long though? A year isn't long enough to convince the sort of men that run the clans to suddenly give up fighting," he pointed out.

At that, Miho pursed her lips and released a small tiny huff of impatience, "Because Izuna-san is already twenty-three and he dies the year he turns twenty-four."

Madara, for the first time since they'd began talking, released a hearty groan, meeting her gaze, "Just what do you expect for me to do with you for an entire year?"

"I don't know," Miho admitted quietly. Then, almost as a joke, she suggested, "Marriage?"

He did not find it nearly as funny as she did.

**When A Flower Blossoms**

"Welcome back," Izuna greeted, eyes looking at anything but Miho as he stood up from the very spot he'd just sat on. He didn't think he'd run nearly so fast to get back from spying on them but it was fairly useless—he'd only hear damned snippets of their conversation.

Hell, he was probably worried over nothing.

Marriage sounded like a lot of things, he had to keep in mind, after all it rhymed with so many words like…shit, what rhymed with marriage. Whatever, he wasn't a wordsmith but he was sure that he had nothing to worry about if his brother's reaction was anything to go off.

"Izuna-san," Miho said cheerfully, smiling as she made her way over to him. He hated how different her hairstyle was, internally mourning the loss of it as he noted the way it made her look a lot less sweet and a whole lot more deadly. Not the sort of adjectives that he even wanted _near_ her.

But if he were completely honest, it just accentuated the curves of her body more, her breasts somehow looking even bigger in the shirt he'd given her—and what a mistake it was to look for the smallest one he could find. He wished internally that he'd given her the, albeit gross looking, green kimono that hadn't been touched in over the year since the Uchiha clan had last stepped foot in their hideout.

He sighed but tried for a smile, wondering just how the hell she could incite such a quick reaction out of him, "So…how was the talk?"

"Well, it was fine but I wonder…" she mumbled before her cheeks became flushed at whatever thought she had cross her mind. His stomach sank.

"Wonder what?"

"I wonder if it was fine for your brother too. I don't want to upset him if I can avoid it," she finished, laughing to herself for reasons unknown to him before she turned to look at her sister and the, ugh, _Senju_. How she could ever let herself be near a man like him was beyond Izuna.

More important was the fact that she seemed to be blushing over his brother, the sort of man he would never wish on even the worst of his flings.

He looked over at where his brother stood, looking about as unhappy as Miho looked pleased.

"Mito-chan, when you get back to Tou-san, please tell him I'm fine and that I will see him soon. Also, _please_ send me some dresses to the capital. I will pick them up from there. Oh!" Miho seemed to startle herself as she looked directly to the Senju scum, "Hashirama-san, I bought you a year of time to gather as many clans as you can before the Uchiha clan will even consider joining you so don't let me down!"

Wait, what the hell?

His gaze swung back to his brother quickly just in time to see Madara grimacing.

"What's going on, Miho-chan?" he decided to ask, bewildered at the prospect of her words. Who in their right mind would ever even _consider_ joining with the Senju?

"Well," she started, before she started to laugh giddily to herself, "well, I've somehow become betrothed to your brother and now will be staying with your family for at least a year."

" _What?_ " Izuna and Mito snapped in time with each other before directing their scowls at each other.

"Wait, it's not for real," Miho explained, looking surprised at their sudden vehemence, "it's just for the year. I don't actually intend to go through with it, of course. We just need the excuse and reason for why I'll be there."

"But why do you have to be there?" Mito asked, taking the chance to close the distance between her and Miho, coming to grasp the younger twin's bandaged hands in her own.

"Because I'm the jinchuuriki," Miho stated as if it made it obvious. When no one instantly knew what she was getting at, she sighed, taking her hands out and throwing them up, "this is not up for discussion."

Izuna's head spun before he turned to look at his brother, throwing his hands out emphatically, "Joining the _Senju_?"

Madara looked at him, his expression unreadable before releasing a barely noticeable sigh and simply using Miho's previously spoken words, "This is not up for discussion."

His brother must have gone insane then. He must have lost even the smallest lick of sense in that skull of his to have agreed to something like this.

Upset and to the point of fuming, Izuna decided to save it for later before sending one last scathing look in the direction of Hashirama before walking off before he could smack the smug, satisfied face of the scummiest Senju.

**When A Flower Blossoms**

"She _what?_ " the Uzumaki clan head asked, bringing his fist down to the table to the point of splintering the fine craftsmanship. "Does she not have even a lick of sense in her body? Have I been raising her wrong this entire time for her to go off and just do whatever? Has she always been this stupid!?"

Mito winced but still went on, trying not to fume as openly as her father was, "I know, but I couldn't stop her _or_ them. Especially because Hashirama didn't even _bother_ helping me try."

"That brat," her dad hissed underneath his breath, "that fool has always been like that, always talking back to Butsuma-san and now he's apparently been using your sister to do his dirty work? How dare he stoop so _low_."

"Tou-san, it wasn't exactly like that, uh, Miho-chan actually did this on her own, if you can believe it."

At those words, he turned to look at his daughter with intrigue clear in his eyes, "On her own?"

"It was her idea and she also somehow got the Uchiha to agree to it," Mito explained, hating that just speaking the words made her somehow admire her sister even more than she already did. Never in her life did she ever think she could even remotely see the chances of an Uchiha actually walking away from a conflict with a _Senju_ without anyone dying. But no, it had been fairly peaceful with her sister around, smiling as if nothing had ever gone wrong in the history of ever.

"Well…" her father coughed, "have you at least sent her kimono back to the capital? Now that she's going to be staying there."

"Tou-san!" Mito whined, "I thought you'd at least send me back there to get her back or something but letting her just stay there with them? She couldn't handle it!"

That was when he smiled, "Your sister has always been different. We've all known this and because of this we've always tried to protect her as our little blossom, no matter the ways she made it difficult to do so. When sick, your mother raised a hospital to treat her, and when sad, we gave her instruments and clothes. All because, and you know this is true, we pitied her."

Mito was wordless, eyes widening. A part of her hated to admit it but…it _was_ true. An Uzumaki would hate to be treated like Miho was—endlessly chaperoned, pampered as if she couldn't do even the simplest tasks, and never allowed to be near the shinobi craft. They also knew that despite how it took care of her, Miho had never been happy.

Which was why they had sent her on that "mission" in the first place. They would let her live the shinobi life for as long as they could. Miho had never even been alone the entire time she'd been in the capital, perhaps not even aware that she had been followed around by their men and even by Mito herself, the entire time.

It was all she could do not to take her away the moment she started talking about her relationship with the younger brother. Mito _knew_ , she _knew_ how Miho could get around people. Of course she would never actually get any real information, they all knew it too.

Which was why Mito hated sending her sister off to complete a mission that had all been a lie to begin with. All to make her happy, all to see her smile. They all knew and yet they had no idea that it would have this sort of turn out.

That she, of all people, would make a sort of plan that anybody else would have called impossible.

A woman of peace, a girl that would never and could never fit into the world of shinobi, had just taken her first step inside of it—and they never had a chance in stopping her from doing it.

"This may be your sister's way of fighting," her father continued, eyes worried, "and while I may not like it, and while I will utterly _destroy_ them if anything happens to her…I will still honor her choices and the weapons she has decided to use in these trying times."

"Our entire family is crazy," Mito declared, standing up as she brushed a small tear away, "for this to be the only thing we seem to agree on."

**When A Flower Blossoms – End**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References Explained:
> 
> Slime – In case someone doesn't know, Saiken, the Rokubi, has corrosive alkali (like Kurama has the super healing and ability to sense negative emotions) which is a burning slime that can be summon when the jinchuuriki has transformed and has any number of tails.
> 
> Nadeshiko – so I'm sure some of you know, but these are woman that seem perfect. The funny thing is that it can also refer to a frilled pink carnation, which I sort of make relate back to the whole sakura theme I have going on here.


	13. Like A Snake

**Ｗ** **ｉｌｌ ｏｆ Ｆｉｒｅ**

 _ **Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ** _ _**13** _

_The road is dark and uncertain when giving ears to the lies_

_Do not live in regret, uncertain of the way back._

**Like A Snake**

"Didn't think I would come back here," Miho said, sighing into the palm of her hand as the norimono's procession down the streets of the capital continued. She slid the window open then, meeting Izuna's gaze, "you know, you didn't have to get me one of these, I can walk by myself."

"People would start asking questions when seeing your bandages, Miho-chan," he responded with, directing a small smile her way.

She snorted at that, "As if they'd recognize me now that my hair is gone."

"You're still as beautiful as ever," he retorted, "and red hair is always especially perceptible."

"I've always wondered why you're so nice to me, Izuna-san," she murmured back, "you must be an especially kind soul."

"Not kind," he replied, teeth glinting in the sunlight as his smile grew, "just very honest."

"Then a genjutsu would have also worked also," she stubbornly reminded him before snickering at his exasperated expression.

"My brother just thought you would have been more comfortable," Izuna explained, "not whining as much as you are now."

She outright laughed at his words upon getting over the shock that Madara would have ever been so thoughtful towards anyone that wasn't his kin, "Izuna, we must not know each other as well as I once thought. Otherwise, you would have been aware that I happen to love walking, even more so when it's among the people in this nation. After all, it's the very best way to learn."

"You really love people, don't you? Even civilians," he stated, sounding just a bit amazed as well as generally confused, "Why?"

"If I did not, Izuna-san, I doubt very much that I would have made this deal with your brother. It is for the people that I am willing to die, and why my concerts have always been free to the public."

"But why though? Speaking generally, most of them are criminals."

"Actually, generally speaking, most of them are _children_ ," Miho reminded him with a tiny smile, "and while there may be many terrible people in this world, it is also very hard to come across a person that is entirely evil. Even more impossible is to find a person that is entirely good. After all, this is because people do not do things without reason and that little notion is very important into understanding our reality and society."

"I've seen men piss on graves, are you telling me that they had reason to do that?" Izuna asked, lips pulling up into a small tiny smirk.

"I never told you that all people have _good_ reason. Those are as hard to figure out as the people attached to them, 'ttekisa."

"It's been awhile since you've done that," he noted, so softly that she hardly could pick it up.

"Done what?" Miho asked, pressing her still bandaged hand to the side of her cheeks, feeling it heat up as she grew self-conscious.

"You know, 'ttekisa."

It somehow made it all the more embarrassing for him to say it himself as she frowned down at him from her elevated position. " _Anyway_ ," she coughed out, reigning back in the topic, "I believe that if one is able to accept the other for what they are, entirely and wholly, many things are capable of happening. Such is the reason why revolutions can be made possible and why people can unite under a cause."

"But don't you know what happens when things are rejected?" Izuna asked, his beautiful facing being graced with the saddest of smiles. It suited him terribly, making her heart ache just a bit to see it there.

Pursing her lips, she had to looked away from his gaze, instead finding her hands much more tolerable. Yet, she found it too hard to swallow even as the answer came to her easily. Slowly, she released a sigh and tried to smile when she looked back to him.

Expect he had already disappeared.

With that, she blew out a breath and placed her fingers delicately to the handle on the window, pausing only to take in one final look of the outside world. But upon seeing the dreary skies that only meant rain, and hearing the screeches of children playing on the streets, Miho found herself slamming it shut.

After all, she knew far too well what rejection meant.

War. Blood. Death.

Children to be sentenced to fight despite not even being able to properly hold a kunai. Mothers to lose their sons and daughters as the villages ransacked by the war times were left in shambles and in terrible condition. Even worse would be the nobles making money off of it, whether by selling weaponry or by planning for the advantages at the end of it.

She had let herself promise to try to keep it from happening, had let herself think she could protect the children, but truly if her actions were all wrong, she had no idea what would happen to the future of this world.

But it was also clear to her that before she let that sort of defeat sit with her, Miho would instead feel the tantalizing breath of victory and do her best to take it in.

**Like A Snake**

"So what did my future father-in-law say?" Hashirama asked as soon as Mito came out of her father's private quarters.

Nonchalantly, as she passed him back with a small tiny smile on her face, she murmured, "He called you a brat."

Hashirama's face instantly fell, "Wait, but why?"

"Oh, _nothing_ ," Mito responded with sweetly, grinning from ear to ear at his despondent reaction, "rather, it's probably more important to discuss that date of ours tonight, before we head back to the Yamanaka clan estate to try what failed _again_."

Two of the things Mito absolutely loathed to think about most—great! At least it would kill two birds with one stone if she got Hashirama to actually talk about their plans for his absolutely nutty ideas. Still, what with her sister's terrible choices and unfounded trust in the man, Mito couldn't totally say she wasn't impartial to it all.

She just couldn't see her clan actually going along with it, probably settling to be trading partners but most likely nothing more—they'd never leave their village to become a part of something else, that much was already written off.

Which made it rather strange that two of his biggest supporters were two girls from such a clan.

Either way, as she knew it would, Hashirama instantly perked up at the mention of a date and she was pretty much sentenced for a troublesome night with the fool who never shut up.

Although, if she were honest, it wasn't as if she hated the idea of it.

She just hated the fact that he was the one thing, out of everything she had ever come across, she couldn't pick apart as easily as she did her seals. He never made blatant sense to her, and with his incessant talking, it felt as if she should've come to understand him long ago.

"Thinking about how much of a mystery I am?" he asked, drawing nearer to her.

She jumped, but not before sending out her fist to connect with his jaw as he flew back into the tree he had been leaning against not even minutes before. It felt only a little satisfying when she heard the crunch of the tree before she walked off, fully expecting for him to follow behind her.

However, after about five seconds of him not having joined her, she looked back—only to find him patching up the tree with his mokuton jutsu, smiling to himself.

It was little things like those that drove her _nuts_.

"I'll never be able to understand him in this lifetime, will I?" she asked under her breath, as softly as she could, before walking back over to him with her cheeks heating up, "How does ramen sound for lunch?"

Finished with bringing back the tree to full health, he straightened out his back before grinning, closing the distance between them as he brought his arm around her shoulders, "That sounds wonderful! So wonderful, in fact, that I'm thinking it would be nice if we could get Uzushio recipes being used in the village that we make. Even better would be if actual people from here come to live there and make it! Wouldn't that be great?"

"It would be nice," she admitted softly, laughing at him when he stopped talking to stare are her, as if surprised she could be anything akin to civil with him.

Then, instead of commenting on it like she assumed he would, he merely smiled after a moment and laughed along too, "We need to have a garden by a body of water, I think, when we settle on the place we'll be living in. Because when we're married and you're away from Uzushio, it might help with the homesickness."

Mito hated how happy his words made her but more so than that, she had a few questions for him instead, "How can you know for certain that we'll be together in the future? Or even that you'll get that village?"

"While most might make fun of my blind optimism," Hashirama started, sounding more thoughtful than usual before finishing off with a pleased smile, "I usually get everything that I want in the long fun. Which is why, I know that one day, we will be madly in love with each other, with kids running all around our house inside of a safe, protected village."

"I think this is the reason why you have a problem with gambling," Mito noted with a sigh as she brought her hands to her hips, stopping in her tracks. "So it seems like I'll have to be the one policing that, won't I?"

"Mito-chan—!"

Holding up a hand to cut him off, she continued, fighting against the heat growing on her face as she met his gaze, "You should listen to me more if that's going to be the case though. I won't be poor and my children will not be beggars and _hopefully_ , none of them will pick up on that awful addiction."

"Mito-chan, my relationship with gambling isn't an _addiction_ , it's a bond. One with risk, just like any other great relationship," Hashirama tried to explain, desperate, as if her understanding something so stupid was of great importance to him. Now that she thought about it—it probably was, which she didn't know if it was a good or bad thing that that was the case.

She thought that might've been why she even liked him, when he tried to get her to see an entirely new perspective on things.

But, unfortunately for him, she was unlikely to budge anytime soon.

With that, she smiled just wide enough that he caught if before she turned away from him and quickly began to walk once more.

**Like A Snake**

Miho had yet to get over her excitement as she wandered about her bedroom, even an entire week after having arrived. Her trunks of clothing had also made its way back to the capital as she couldn't help but pulling all of them out and hanging them over anything that would make do. Then, unexpectedly, she found herself laying in them and smelling the ocean breeze that had clung to them and it was so wonderfully salty that she could simply envision Uzushio in her eyes.

While she missed it as much as she did her family, Miho had to admit that she had been having _fun_. It was strange to even think it, to even apply that word among the list of adjectives to describe her time spent with the Uchiha, but there it was.

Although if she were honest with herself, she thought she was already beginning to annoy them with how much she talked—which was incessantly. But she just had _so_ much to say, wanting to talk to whoever would listen. Which wasn't most people, especially when they had just gotten back and the entire clan she'd wound up being in contact with were far too confused to let themselves listen to her.

After all, they had been spreading rumors that she had a tongue like a snake, manipulative and immoral enough to trick _the_ (as if he were some sort of impossible catch) Madara Uchiha into become her husband. Which, at the time, she had found _hilarious_. Because if there was anything that Miho was not, it was manipulative. Immoral, on the other hand, still stood to be tested.

For one, she wasn't all that smart when it came to people and so that immediately made it strange, and almost a bit of a compliment, that they would use such a word with her name. Immoral was probably due to the rumors about her having been with men before him, which was a little true and a little funny that the truth lied in it being with his _brother_ instead of the many others she'd supposedly slept with to get ahead.

But she was fine with what was being said about her, because despite all of it, they had found a great way in getting her to shut up—children.

In the three days that had passed since Madara had begrudgingly given her the fund to start a school of her own, she had spent the hours tirelessly planning and designing it alongside a master carpenter who, while terrified that it was the Uchiha who had employed him, seemed very talented in his work.

Enough so that when she mentioned having a kitchen being made in the upstairs of the recently vacated building on the main street, just a fifteen-minute walk from where she slept, he seemed absolutely infatuated with the idea. Probably because it meant more money for him…but either way, she liked him.

Mostly because he promised the work would all be finished within the week as he contracted the use of shinobi to speed up the process. Which also meant that she really needed to start working on advertisements—it would not do good to have no children show up on the first day of opening.

She hoped dearly that her reputation wouldn't make it impossible…because _that_ certainly wouldn't be helping her, what with all the sneering gazes she had been receiving.

After all, Izuna had been right about her hair—they unfortunately recognized her regardless and seemed almost a bit glad that she had lost the hair she'd obviously been so proud of.

Miho groaned just thinking about it, "Please work!"

She sincerely did _not_ want to tell Madara that the investments he made in her school would be written down as a loss…mostly because when she'd brought up the idea to him, he seemed already put off by it. Schools, after all, were not made as a common thing and only existed for the higher class, which is not who she planned to teach.

So, sure, convincing him might have taken a little extra elbow grease such as locating him every chance she got and asking about it in her brightest voice and smile…but she promised she would prove herself to him!

Which is why, heading to her desk with ink and paper in hand, she took a seat and set to work on painstakingly writing out each advertisement in as nice of a handwriting as she could.

**Like A Snake**

"Let's see…qualifications? Heh, am I even qualified to teach kids?" Miho had no idea if she did, but it sure sounded nice if she did. Also very necessary _for_ her to get the permissions to run a school which, going through the whole process, made it entirely too clear to see why schools were so few and far in between.

All of the money, the paperwork, and ugh, nothing ever seemed to be finished. If not those two, something else would pop up, like trying to find places to keep up her advertisements or even getting another set of permissions just to have a kitchen. It was as if the sole purpose to all the paper was just so _nothing_ could exist without someone having a wealthy stack of cash, and solid connections with the Daimyo who gave the allowances.

All because this was the capital and "not just any plot of land out in the country".

Which gave her an entirely new perspective on the sort of people that littered just outside the capital with their poor tiny shacks and oh-so desperate attempts to snag in customers. Which was also why, when she wasn't too busy she would stop by there, the unofficially titled 'Hitobito no Ichiba', which she had begun to lovingly call it in her head.

"That's the sort of thing you should probably know if you're going to ask to get a license for this," Izuna murmured, interrupting her train of thought, looking absolutely out of his wits from having just gotten back from a particularly taxing mission. He took a small sip of tea from his cup before wincing when the heat stung at the cut on his lips.

She frowned at him, "Let me put medicine on it."

"No."

"Hnng," Miho groaned out, upset at getting turned down for the third time, always somehow expecting him to change his mind each time she asked. "Why not?"

"Because."

"That reason sucks," Miho responded bitterly, taking a drink of her own tea, knowing full well that he wouldn't say anything more, "but honestly, I think I can actually get this approved."

"How?" Izuna asked before leaning back, quickly giving up on sitting properly as he ended up on his back, groaning yet again.

"The king," she answered nonchalantly before getting up and crossing the room, grabbing the pillow still set on top of her laid out futon. It had yet to be cleared, thankfully, in her haste to get the Uchiha man to stay in her room when he popped by, in hopes of getting him to talk with her.

Wordlessly, and with a smile, she kneeled beside him before gently lifting up his head, placing the pillow underneath before standing back up and sitting back down with her cup of tea coming back into her hands.

"Thanks," Izuna mumbled, sighing into the pillow as he turned to his side.

"You know, my music teacher used to be so _nuts_ about proper posture," Miho started, brushing at the sides of her hair, upon seeing his uncareful way of sleeping, "So much so that she used to sneak into my room at night to check if I had moved even a tiny bit in my sleep from being anything but as straight as a pin. Instead of a pillow, I used to sleep on this terrible wooden neck thing, I forget what it's called, but it was terrible, and…Izuna-san?"

At the call of his name, a loud, forced snore sounded from his still form.

Miho rolled her eyes, "I know you're not asleep. No _sane_ shinobi would dare let themselves pick up the habit of snoring. That would be a death sentence."

"You know what?" Izuna started, sitting up to meet her triumphant gaze, "I miss the times when we just had sex, and nothing else."

With another roll of her eyes, she blew out a breath and continued, "That isn't the point of this conversation, and besides, even if it was, I know you don't mean that, otherwise you wouldn't still be here."

"I can leave?" Izuna asked, eyes widening as if he really hadn't known. Well, she _hoped_ he hadn't known.

"Wait!" Miho called out as soon as he got up to walk away, pillow in hand, "Just answer one more question!"

"What is it?" he asked, obviously trying to hide his smile.

"Do you think I should teach the kids posture?"

With a quick scowl, Izuna did not answer her question and instead turned to depart, clutching her pillow to his chest tightly.

"Don't steal my pillow, Izuna-san," Miho called out warningly as he slid open the door to her room.

"Ask Takara-san for a new one, I'm taking this one," he responded with huffily before he slammed the door shut behind him.

Miho barely held back a softly worded expletive before crying out, "That one is mine though!"

"Nuh-huh, you gave it to me! No take backs!" he yelled through the rice paper.

"Is he a child or something?" Miho asked herself under her breath as his footsteps faded down the hallway, probably letting them even be heard just for her sake.

At that, she couldn't help but smile as she turned back to her notes

Now she just needed to get into contact with the king.

**Like A Snake**

"I used to enjoy talking with her the most, back when it was cute and refreshing," Izuna noted as he laid down behind his brother who sat at his desk, dipping his brush into the ink before writing, "What are you doing?"

"Nothing of much importance to you," Madara intoned deeply.

"Then put the brush down and hear me out," Izuna murmured back, coming to rest his cheek on the pillow he had just robbed from the girl literally driving him nuts, "because I am _still_ confused."

"You can ask one question," Madara responded, setting down the brush as asked and turning to look down at his little brother.

"Only one?" Izuna scowled, "Stingy."

Madara sighed, "I'm busy."

"Yeah, well, you used to be a whole lot more fun when we were younger," Izuna whined, stretching out his body on the floor as thought back to Miho's much warmer company, who might have talked too much these days, still took care of him.

"That was back before-," Madara cut himself off, shaking his head.

But Izuna didn't need any more explanation, sighing into the pillow before peeking out at his brother from behind his bangs, "Before the Senju." He regretted it the moment the words left his mouth, sitting up to meet his gaze.

His brother's face hardened, looking almost a little sad before he quickly shook his head, "Tell me your question."

Izuna no longer had any idea on what to say, because, well, his question _was_ about the Senju. Now he was just taken aback at the feelings Madara had that he _clearly_ did not. He couldn't comprehend why that was, why or how his brother could find it in himself to treat the scum as if he were a friend.

In his eyes, with _very_ few exceptions, family was most important and the only thing to be trusted. Yet...

He swallowed under the heavy gaze of his older brother before settling for a simpler question, one that shouldn't have been too hard, "Why did you agree to her offer?"

What he had not been expecting was the softly spoken words of, "I did it for you."

Because he'd never would have expected such honest words, and instead of receiving any answers, he had only multiplied his questions.

Worried, Izuna looked into Madara's eyes pensively, searching for anything that could tell him more but then after one long moment, he gave up, sighing out, "Are you sure I can only ask one question?"

"Yes."

With that, Izuna stood up, clinging to his pillow tightly before wordlessly leaving the room.

It was with confusion and questions in his heart that he sought her out, coming back into her room without even a sound before looking at her quietly. Brushing at her hair with obvious annoyance, she still had on that thoughtful expression of hers paired with a grimace and half smile.

He had always wondered how she was able to fit so many emotions onto her face, but much like a book, she was easy to read.

Then, she looked up to meet his gaze, jumping in her sudden surprise, "Izuna-san!"

"I'm sleeping in here," he told her before making his way to her futon and laying down, "and I don't mind it if you decide to sing or...uh, talk."

She smiled at that, as if seeing through him like he was water, but instead of teasing him like he thought she would, Miho didn't say another word. Instead, she began to hum softly to herself as she continued to write out whatever it was that had grabbed her attention.

Like that, he fell into a dreamless sleep.

**Like A Snake**

Miho had honestly not been lying she has said she'd get her school approved by the king, or at least _try_ for it.

At the time when she had first met him, she had been fifteen and trying to see if any of her marriage partners would be viable under her father's heavy-handed and strict criteria. She'd also been incredibly childish, a miracle in and of itself that he would still allow for her to perform in the festival.

It was one of her very first performances, now that she thought back to it, and she had done considerably well if the audience's reaction was anything to go by. But not only that, Miho had played her koto alongside his three daughters, having lived among them for the duration of month for the sake of them practicing together.

Now what mattered to her now was seeing if she could ask any of them to help her out…

She could remember being very fond of the youngest one, and the closet one to her age, Sana, but since she'd been married to a man in Tetsu no Kuni—a samurai military leader of all things—Miho hadn't been able to get back into contact with her at all. Which was a shame, after all the good times they had with each other eating dried plums and dressing each other up.

Asuka would most certainly a different case entirely if Miho even tried getting into contact with her—she'd found Miho to be incredibly boring, from she could remember, so she'd probably never even entertain the thought of helping her out. It didn't help that she was an entire month of time away from the capital.

So that left _Sakiko_ , the oldest of the three, and the one who was still reachable by mail as she'd married the son of a nearby daimyo. It certainly helped that during Miho's entire stay with them, she'd treated her much like a daughter with that mother hen characteristic she had been grateful for at the time. Which meant she only needed to write her a letter and hope that Sakiko would remember her.

Otherwise, Miho thought she would go insane trying to prove her credentials to the officials governing her permissions.

**Like A Snake**

Miho found herself trying to noiselessly walk down her hall to the outside late at night, hands clutching at her scroll before opening the door to the outside. As quietly as she could, she stepped out into the small tiny garden before finding herself nearly startled to death when she heard her name called out.

"Miho-san?" the familiar voice called out as she turned to look at them.

To her pleasant surprise, she met the gaze of Ryota just as he crossed over from the pond, smiling widely before blinking in his own show of disbelief.

"Y-Your hair!"

"It's gone," Miho said, nodding as she laughed to herself, feeling acutely aware of how the locks felt against the back of her neck, a nuisance she had been trying to keep at bay by tying her hair into tiny pigtails when she was alone.

"But why? It was so beautiful, I mean, not th-that you a-aren't be-beautiful without it but," Ryota sighed out, shaking his head, "more important would be…what are you doing here?"

"Ah," Miho opened her mouth, unsure of what to say as she recalled their farewells, particularly how he had confessed to her. She pursed her lips, before sighing out softly, "I…I'm getting married."

It hurt just to see his face fall from what, for all intents and purposes, was a lie.

"T-To, to who?" Ryota asked, stepping forward before halting, his expression darkening, "Is it Madara-sama? I mean, I had heard that he'd brought a woman here but…"

Turning her face away, she looked down at the scroll in her fingers before giving a forced nod, "Yes. Yes. I am, dattekisa."

"Don't do it," he whispered before shaking his head, eyes wide, "Did I just say that out loud?"

"It's fine, 'ttekisa," Miho responded, voice soft, as she stroked at the scroll, "Ryota-kun, I'm sorry. I've been thoughtless, I should have found you when I got back but I've just been busy with planning something."

"Planning what?" he asked, obviously trying to steer the conversation elsewhere.

Which was good because if she thought about it, the fact that she said she would give him a chance would be very _odd_.

"Ah, first," Miho murmured, smiling, "what are you doing so late out here? I would have assumed everybody would be asleep at this hour."

"Normally I would be," he admitted sheepishly before pointing at the pond, "but I wanted to look at the flowers."

"Oh?" Miho grinned at the thought of him sneaking out of bed just to look at them, and absentmindedly, she made her way over to pond before kneeling at the side of it, feeling the fabric of her simple blue kimono get wet.

Ryota quickly followed after before pointing out at a very breathtaking pink flower floating on the water, blossomed under the moonlight fully, "It's a night bloom water lily."

"So only at night they open up?" Miho asked, looking up to see him nod, "I used to know a lot about flowers when I was younger but after a while I was too busy with music to study them like I used to. I used to dream about opening a flower shop too, back before I even knew that the koto existed."

"That sounds like something you'd want," he murmured, coming to kneel beside her as he dipped his hands in the water.

"So you know me well enough by now to know those sort of things?" she asked, chuckling to herself when he flushed at her question.

"N-No, no…"

"Sorry," she whispered when he turned quiet, "I sometimes like to tease the people I find interesting."

"So then I'm at least interesting to you?" he probed, peering up through his bangs with a hesitant smile.

"You've helped me out in the past, even when you didn't have to," she responded honestly, "I hope that you can still be my friend, even though I'm much older than you."

"I'm going to be sixteen next week," he murmured, pouting in a way that reminded her of the first time she'd seen him.

Miho tried to hold back a laugh, bringing her hand to her mouth, "I used to think you were thirteen!"

"No way!" he cried out, as if the world were ending, "I've also been told that I'm mature for my age."

"We're five years apart," Miho noted, peeking over at him to see his reaction.

"My dad is five years older than my mom, what's the big deal?" he asked, meeting her gaze with a small smile of his own.

"I guess you could look at it that way," she murmured softly, "but I would never be able to marry a man younger than me, considering my father was very specific on who he'd let me marry."

"Is that why you left your clan?" he asked, before slapping his hand to his mouth as if he had said something he shouldn't have.

Which did upset her, but not in the way he probably thought it would.

His entire perception of her was entirely different from the truth.

She'd never left her clan and instead was in a very fake engagement with his clan head, acting as if she were even close to being a true friend to him. It made her feel _terrible_.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, hand reaching out to touch her when she looked away, blinking rapidly.

"No," she murmured, sucking in a breath before turning back, meeting his onyx eyes with a smile, "to your question. I didn't leave because of that, I love my father and I always will."

"Then why did you leave? If you don't mind me asking," Ryota mumbled, looking at her curiously.

"I left so that I could change history," she answered, trying for a smile as she touched his still outstretched hand, "Thank you but I think I should be on my way, I need to get this scroll hung up on the wall before the other's get there."

"Bye?" he murmured, lifting up his hand as if to stop her in his confusion, but before he could, she was already rushing to leave.

Because, _really_ , sometimes the people advertising on the market boards were insanely greedy with the spaces offered on the wall. Although she couldn't entirely say she just needed to get away from another reminder of what sort of person she needed to become.

A liar.

**Like A Snake – End**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References Explained:
> 
> Norimono – a type of palanquin intended for the nobles, kago are cheaper and meant for the commoner's use.
> 
> Hitobito no Ichiba – the people of the market, the people's market, everybody's market, capishe?


	14. Cherry Tree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes On Madara: I'm worried some will think he's OOC but I figure it's a lot to do with perception and so I'm just going to explain a bit on my personal views on the guy and show what type of person I'm writing him as.
> 
> This is the version of himself before Izuna's death, and before actually experiencing the supposed shunning of his clan. This makes him rather different than the cold, calculating man who, despite the chance at just ending all with his death, stayed alive so he could "save the world". Obviously he is within the bounds of wanting to seek peace, and only later discovers that he wants to seek eternal peace. Currently he does not know that this is a thing he can eventually do and instead is focusing on what is best for his clan's survival and for his brother. I see Madara as a rather sympathetic person, even a little kind and as peace-loving as Itachi, for wanting to give his eternal peace to the people of Konoha, despite there practically being no one he actually knew on personal levels. I don't think animosity is his natural state, and when growing up he was actually a little bit like Naruto with his flaring tempers and more honest approach with things. Fanon Madara, as I've noticed, tends to lack a little bit on how very human he is and how much he is actually capable of caring for others within a great capacity. Many writers paint him as very cruel but that makes no sense in terms of his actions and his wants for the world. Sure, he's all for sacrificing people here and there, but in his eyes, it would be for the greater good.
> 
> After all, in his words, one must love for one to risk hatred, and by now we all should know that the Curse of Hatred is very much alive within them. I've always taken it to know that this also comes from an equal balance of love.
> 
> I know, I'm sappy.
> 
> Still, despite all this reasoning, even I'm not entirely satisfied with my characterization of him, so let me know your thoughts on the dude! It could really help a lot with seeing different perspectives on him.

**Ｗ** **ｉｌｌ ｏｆ Ｆｉｒｅ**

 _ **Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ** _ _**14** _

" _I will surely forget it all tomorrow"_

_I still wish it hadn't been a lie._

" _No trace of it will be left"_

_I wish it were true._

**Cherry Tree**

Madara realized too late that he wasn't impartial to her.

The moment she came to see him, dark eyes so wide and trusting—did she even know how many awful, terrible ways he could kill her? Nothing short of mangling her, at least that was certain. She must have known too. He'd seen from her memories that she was at least clear on that much about him. The fear in her eyes from the past times he'd seen her had also been, clearly, there.

Yet now she seemed not to care about his reputation and instead acted if he were a…friend.

Which was wholly unsurprising if he took the chance to recall what he'd learned about her in her memories. She trusted people as if it were an incurable disease she had been stuck with, possibly born with, and gave her love and attention to even the most undeserving scum, like the boys that had endlessly tormented her when she was younger.

Gullible, far too giving, and unnaturally thoughtful—she was someone he never wanted to meet again after he'd gotten done with her memories.

But of course he needed to use her, needed to take advantage of what she had come to possess, what he had accidently given back to her. He'd _seen_ his future, admittedly in shoddily drawn pictures, but he'd still seen it there. Only _she_ knew what all of it meant.

If one were to take her circumstances at face value, she should have given her loyalty to the Senju entirely and wholly, giving them all of the information he could. He could tell that before he shook around in her head that she had never been wiser to the forgotten memories in her head. But he'd been the one to revive them, and, in the process, put his entire clan in even more danger.

Yet she had probably never even thought about taking sides and seemed determined to unite them with the goals of making a happier ending than the one she could remember. The one that had him losing, as it was obviously indicated by his death.

He could recall Mabel having been slightly disappointed, having hoped for something better. She was a pacifist down to the very grain of her existence, from one life and into the next. It made him wonder why she had ever taken up the hobby of reading the books that foretold the future of his world. He still didn't like to think about it; the prospect that his entire existence was controlled by the artist who had drawn the scenes she had once scoured through as if looking for hidden messages.

It was against better judgement that he still hadn't made any plans to visit her, and it was for this very reason. He knew that logically it would have been best if he got her into training, turning her into a weapon for his use after she had so bravely offered herself to him with no end date in her offer—a clear oversight on her part, he could twist her words and do whatever he pleased now with all the power she had given him. Still, there was no way Hashirama would gather clans to join him in a _year_. The idea was too farfetched and unthinkable. Yet…she had said it was for this reason that Hashirama was able to beat him and his clan, overpowering them into surrendering.

Madara groaned, upset that he had been unable to decide what to do in the entire month that had passed with her in his possession.

One thing was clear, he certainly needed to start thinking about the future, how he could use her to suit him.

After all, she knew things and he knew things, but not as much as her.

He could infer a lot from the pictures. Unfortunately for him, he didn't understand the language the rest of the information was put in, as she had so easily caught onto the day she had stated her offer. So, sure, he had seen himself discussing plans with a few people, especially some kin of his that would come in the latter generations, but the voices spoke in strange tongues and his own character in tones that sounded nothing like him.

She had mentioned it being a _dub_ but he had no idea what the hell that meant, only guessing that it was what the language was called. _Dub_ , it felt strange to say to himself, and almost a tad bit disconcerting knowing that at any time his brother could casually walk in and hear the butchered language in what it sounded like; gibberish.

He'd think he'd finally gone mad.

Raking a hand through his hair, Madara set down his brush into the inkwell and stood up from his table. He rolled out his shoulders and looked at the pile of paperwork he had yet to get to. One thing he had never envied of his father had been the paperwork, and now here he was with a whole pile of scrolls and various pieces of parchment.

Unfortunately for the ones that had sent them, he would have to come back when he could clearly think. Imagine if he allowed something stupid to happen in his thoughtless actions; he'd never live that down.

As the eldest son and the newly appointed clan head, Madara had once thought that it would give him the power to do anything he liked. Such as ending feuds, a small wish he had once remembered having as a young boy. He'd even once thought that Hashirama could help him, with how utterly powerful he was in a match. It had been one of the main reason's he had so stubbornly gone out to meet him, always infuriated by the fact that he seemed to win easily at everything, like the stupid tossing of rocks over the river.

But that was before everything happened, and particularly before he had woken up in his realization that nothing would ever be as happy as the dreams he had when he slept.

Which was why he hated to look at her, hated to see her eyes filled with hope. In many ways, she was a lot like Hashirama. But the Senju clan head could stand to be stupid and ambitious; he was a very strong man with great power. Sakura—he must really stop calling her that but habits die hard—was a weak musician whose very existence relied on the fact that she could bat an eye at any man and lure them in with her face. If she had gone off talking about a unification of the clans, never minding her charms, anyone else would have tried to shut her up—permanently, in some cases.

It would be just another life taken in a world where hundreds died every day, if not hours.

Which led him back to wondering why he even cared or even took the time to think about it.

Unfortunately, he had realized he wasn't entirely detached the moment he heard her speak, so powerfully and truthfully. She had looked up at him as if her belief was solid, bringing him back to his memories spent with the Senju, thinking about all of the plans they had used to discuss.

He had been under the impression that it was a mutual thing, that Hashirama had also given up hope but it had been obvious. The Senju had most likely grown up with everything being easy. Whether it was because of his status as clan heir or because he was a literal genius, Madara had no doubt that the only struggle he had was the loss of his brothers

He had been suspicious of his last name at the time, knowing that their family had been the only other clan camped out so near. After all, they had been fighting for the land in the first place, before they had eventually lost too much and had decided to pull back. It had been mutual, and even now the land was unclaimed. Ultimately, at the time, Madara had not cared if it was a Senju that had become his friend—it was someone he connected with, someone he felt he could trust. Only later would he realize how ridiculous it was to have such thoughts.

Madara had worked hard in shedding any former beliefs he had once claimed as his own, completely dispelling them. He had become determined to fight for as long as he could, to kill as many enemies as possible, ready to die at a moment's notice for his clan. His everyday life consisted of it after all. He had not gone a day where he didn't see some form of bloodshed, or some form of violence. Whether he was watching young three year olds wielding kunai for the first time or seeing someone die on a mission, it was always present in the back of his mind that no one was safe in this world.

Even him, the undefeatable Uchiha, the one who had rightfully taken after his fallen father, the one who could lead them to victory, finally, after the many years the grudge had been held. He just needed to use her.

Yet it _bothered_ him, the scenes he saw in her memories.

There were buildings all nestled quietly beneath the cliff Hashirama had claimed would be where they put their village long ago. The skies were brightly lit with birds calmly flitting past as he could gaze out at the monuments that had been carved into the rocks overhead. Notably, the Senju dominated, with both brother's faces being etched into the face of the cliff. He could only assume that the others were not Uchiha, could even almost feel it deep within that they weren't.

He could only guess what it was supposed to mean, but most likely it was the person in power of the village. Which only meant that the Uchiha would be getting the short end of the stick. She had said it was inevitable, had said that when his brother died, Madara would give in to this reality of being treated with a clear lack of respect.

Would he really? How could he? How could he give up so easily after his brother's death? Who was he in this future that he would let the family they despised the most take control over them? It was nothing short of laying down and letting them fuck them over.

Sakura— _Miho_ —had said she believed in the future, had spoken as if with one simple fix everything could work. Clearly, she didn't want Izuna to die, had said she loved him. He hated how honest she sounded, how she could somehow undo everything Madara had done to spare himself of bullshit like that.

He hated how she could simply gain his trust in mere moments after he'd gone into her head. He hated it, and he hated her. But he didn't, couldn't hate her, and that's what he hated the most.

Scoffing to himself, Madara walked over to his futon and laid down with his arm beneath his head before blowing out a sigh, "Senseless…"

He sat up quickly upon feeling and hearing the approach of someone else, eyes narrowing in thinly veiled annoyance when he realized who it was. _Her_.

Softly, as she came to stand before his door, she called out, "Madara-san."

"Hn," he responded as loudly as he could without having to raise his voice.

She fidgeted where she stood, her shadow swaying in the yellow lighting of the candles just outside his bedroom. Then, quietly she asked, "Can I come in?"

His mouth opened, brows raising in surprise before giving up on trying to make sense of her. Rising from his futon, Madara stood to his full height as he walked over to his door, sliding it open to meet her wide-eyed gaze.

Her cheeks were flushed, her cherry pink lips parted slightly as she looked up at him. Then, almost as if she felt shy to do it, she smiled. It was strange what her expressions could do. An unwanted reaction, he couldn't help but distinctly feel the way his chest tightened, his breath catching in his throat.

He supposed it was the natural reaction to someone like Miho and it was clear to see why his brother could stand to be around her so often. Could even see the appeal that the others in his clan had talked about when she had performed for them. He'd never gone to see her play, but he might as well have, given the responses he'd heard be talked about right into his ear.

A beautiful songstress, with a clear and thriving voice. A perfect meld fantasy and reality in her lyrics and with fingers that never led her astray. Everything good that could possibly be said had been said about her.

Even Izuna, who hated singing, had come home humming to himself a melody that could have only come from her.

It was like she was affecting everything in sight, from his clan members and even his brother. Ruthlessly making everything go her way, it was a small wonder why she had spent the better half of her life doubting her skills and appearance. It made no sense to him; there were people in the world that were in far worse circumstances.

But that might have explained her odd sense of guilt, the main motivator in her actions.

With a sigh, Madara crossed his arms over his chest before gruffly murmuring out, "What is it that you need this time?"

She flinched at his tone, her usually clear eyes darkening a fraction before she swallowed, sucking in a breath, "Well, I was just wondering if…if, um…" she trailed off, looking away, her fingers tightening over her kimono.

He waited, watching her every move with questions running through his mind. He couldn't tell what she could possibly want—he'd given her money for her stupid school, what else could she need?

Nervously, she brought her left hand up to her hair, pulling the red strands back behind her ear as she bit at her lower lip. It only seemed to make her lips redder, creating a sharp contrast against the lightness of her skin. His stomach tightened, only making him blow out another breath of air.

She met his eyes then and then reached out to touch his long sleeve, closing the distance between them before he even realized what she was doing. He looked down at her with a mixture of watered down surprise and exasperation, even with a hint of annoyance. _She's more than an idiot_ , he thought, noting how she looked at her own fingers, as if feeling further shocked than he did.

Sakura— _Miho_ dropped her hand from him but didn't move back as she cleared her throat and met his eyes again, "I was wondering if you'd like to go to the festival with me, now that Izuna-san is away for a mission. I understand if you don't want to go but…I'm worried how people will start talking if I go alone."

He tried not to scowl too deeply in response.

Madara wanted to do anything _but_ that. If he could help it, he wanted her as far away from him as possible. But, with his better judgment taking hold, he could see it as an opportunity for more information. He could even see it as a better chance to get to know her and in the process see her so thoroughly that he would feel only disgust upon seeing her.

It was the natural progression of things, as things always turned out with everyone else beside his clan members.

With a grunt, Madara sighed out through his nose, looking away from her beseeching gaze as he gave a low nod.

She gasped with surprise as her hand came out to touch his sleeve once more, "Really? You'll come with me? Oh, how wonderful!"

With a grimace, he noted how 'wonderful' this start was to dispelling her charms on him. He abhorred loud people, wincing as her voice hit his ears at an uncomfortable level. Not to mention the fact that she had yet to let go of him as she obviously had to restrain from taking it further.

If he hadn't known better, Madara would have taken this as a sign, proof of her promiscuity.

No sane woman would so easily touch a man, less a man like him.

Which only strengthened his theory that she was simply insane and all of her memories were delusions from it. Which would make _him_ insane for still believing her.

Shaking his head of the thoughts, Madara openly scowled at her before hastily removing her hand from his sleeve, "It's best you went to bed now."

Her cheeks flushed as she swallowed, making his eyes follow the movement of her throat with tense shoulders. At that moment he resented his training, the hours and years he'd put into being able to take in all changes within a single glance. It was not doing him any favors here.

She seemed to try for a smile, those cherry red lips of hers moving slowly and hesitantly before she gave a tiny laugh, "That's right, it is pretty late. Sorry to have disturbed you."

With that, as suddenly as she had arrived, she turned around and walked away. He watched her disappear into the room at the end of the hall before shutting his own door and slinking back to his futon to sleep off the odd sensation going on in his gut.

She might have been a lot more trouble than she was worth.

**Cherry Tree**

"Madara-san," Miho called into the room with a small smile on her face before she slid open the door to see the raven-haired male already standing up, slipping on a shirt. Unfazed, she held back a laugh before saying in a light voice, "I'll be waiting outside for you."

Then, just barely able to contain her excitement, Miho closed the door and walked down the hall before locating the steps that led her to the outside. Not the front yard, specifically so that rumors wouldn't circulate about the both of them engaging in premarital sex or something else as absurd. Which, every time she tried to envision herself with him, always got her to laugh at the thought.

Still, she couldn't _believe_ that he had said yes to her when she'd bothered him so excessively last night—she almost felt a little bad for it, but her boredom had yet to be ceased due to the lack of a response from everybody she had contacted to get her permissions. She almost had a hunch that it was because she was a woman more than anything else, which only motivated her more in the efforts to make her school a reality.

Now that she thought about it, Madara had been especially kind to her in regards to, well, everything.

It was entirely different than what she imagined her stay would be. He left her to her own devices with as much freedom as he could allow his "wife to be". She couldn't do her performances but that was so she could stay out of the limelight that tended to haunt her when she least expected it to. He allowed her to go out at night or at the crack of dawn and left her with limited bodyguards, who were so good at their job she didn't even notice if they were there in the first place.

Not to mention the fact that he had paid for the construction of her school despite the cost having racked up. Of course, she'd used a bit of her own savings, having hidden it away along with her kimono. Unfortunately, it was still far from all of her money and so she had long since decided to pay him back the moment the year was up and she could get to the bank. It was the least she could do when everything was said and done.

Which begged to be asked; why had he not interrogated her for more information or had set her to begin training to handle the beast that was inside of her? Of course she was glad for it, but she still had to ask herself _why_.

She used to think it might have something to do with him just not caring enough to bother—but he'd agreed to go to a festival with her and that made _no_ sense to the idea she had of him. Cold, calculating, and quick to anger, it was a wonder in and of itself that she was still without a new set of scars.

Actually, that wasn't entirely true. She had small bumps along her skin that had come from her burn injuries, but nothing that would stay with her entire life. At least she hoped not; she was beginning to have a slight complex when it came to the three tiny pieces of scar tissue along her chin.

Still, despite that, it was odd that he'd been staying so far away; she would have thought it would have been the exact opposite, that he'd want to answer an endless barrage of questions concerning the future.

But before she got much of a chance to figure out the enigma that he was, Madara quickly joined her with the grimace that she had come to know quite well. Especially since she had asked him to join her on the sakura blossom viewing that would be taking place in the main street of the capital in just mere hours. Which she had asked last night, having been waiting in anticipation for the day ever since Izuna had told her about it, she had tried to do it nicely but a little part of her couldn't help but notice how annoyed he seemed to be with her.

Regrettably, Izuna had pointedly told her he would be _away_ , and thus she found herself looking up to the very person she didn't think she would have ever spent much time with at all. Yet here she was, smiling up at him as he notably looked at anything but her.

Madara swallowed, his throat moving with the movement before he glanced in her direction, "We'll be under a genjutsu."

Miho nodded, barely restraining the temptation to clap her hands together excitedly like the girls she had taken to visiting when she had the time. More business matters, to be clear, having been spending the time gathering up a slew of prospective students from high and low. Miho thought she was on the verge of getting the Geisha to agree to it, knowing that she only had her musical reputation to thank for it.

Still, holding back her excitement, Miho took a more reserved stance, the very one that had been beaten into her since her time spent with Hayami. Still, she couldn't stop the blush growing over her cheeks or the way her fingers tightened around each other within the bounds of her long sleeves.

She almost felt a little too warm within the layers she usually kept on, which didn't help with the redness of her skin. The blazing sun also wasn't too kind either, now that it had gotten later into the summer time. Miho used to welcome the heat, like welcoming a best friend that had left briefly. But now, amongst the other strange changes Saiken brought to her, Miho felt suffocated beneath them by the strong heat.

She wondered if it was because of the additional chakra she had come to feel stored within her reserves. For the most part, it just stayed there with no will to do anything substantial, besides what looked like warming her body up or restoring what should have been natural homeostasis.

Simply, she was more glad to have become a jinchuuriki rather than have to endure another day stuck in skins too sensitive for the life she had wished to live. It was weird being able to grab onto something and feel as if it were normal and not as if she had been rubbed raw with shards of glass, but it was still a thing to be thankful for.

All the more it had made her attempts to contact Saiken all the more desperate but she had yet to figure out the mysteries of the seal she had placed on herself, and even more so, the means to converse with him.

She thought it would be interesting to meet him, to perhaps apologize for capturing him within her. It was only with her new memories that she could be so brave in attempting to contact him, but they didn't have all the answers for her. It wasn't as if Mabel looked at everything in terms of the logistics behind fuinjutsu.

Her best guess was that it was a link through the chakra, the holes in which the bijuu's only link to the outside world were found. She couldn't imagine it being anything but that, and it seemed that with her lack of training with chakra, it would only make it that much harder to reach within the seal.

At the thought, Miho released a soft sigh and turned to look at Madara expectantly, "Shall we go then?"

He didn't answer her outright, merely eyeing her before he began to walk, his stance stiff and unbending. Inwardly, she panicked but quickly regained her bearings as she followed closely behind him while attempting to keep a genuine smile plastered to her face.

Which meant thinking about the things she liked, specifically the reason why she had even wanted to go out during the day. Although it was a bit late for the sakura to blossom, as she understood it, the capital had always had a colder climate than what she was used to in Uzushio. Back there, it would be time to watch the blossoming as early as the start of April. May would have meant a late start, and wouldn't bode well for the crops, usually letting them know to ask for aid in advance before the return of a starving season.

But she supposed the capital worked differently, a fact that she had been realizing more and more as time went on. She had never intended to learn so much, having always thought she simply had to rely on her music. Yet the world worked in odd ways, ways that she never would have thought would be.

For example, at a time she had once thought the king was the absolute authority on everything, that he had the final say. In theory, he did have the ability to use such power, but instead, the man seemed more focused on writing poetry. Instead of being the man in charge of running a stable government, he gave most of his power away to the daimyo or various other wealthy families.

Upon seeing the king in a new light, Miho had first been disappointed. But it almost seemed to work in her favor if her request got sent to him. After all, her school wouldn't be the usual school where it was made for the sons of reputable families to become scholars. It would be the first ever art school, whether that meant music, painting, writing or even cooking, Miho wanted it to be a place where the creativity in children thrived.

Just thinking about it, Miho began to smile at the thought, feeling her excitement build up once more as she added a hop to her step.

"Madara-san," she started, unable to stop herself from asking in her good mood, "do you like sakura trees?"

"Hn," he monotonously intoned, making her smile strain as she struggled to think up anything else to say.

"You know," Miho tried again, bracing herself, "these type of festivals are usually my busiest days, because of the concerts I would usually be preparing for. In fact, I don't think I've actually had the chance to attend one of these at my leisure in some time so I'm glad that you've agreed to come with me…"

Otherwise, she thought she might have had to ask Ryota, who she had been trying to avoid if given the opportunity.

"Hn," he responded, his eyes flitting down to meet her upturned gaze before leaving it within seconds, facing forward stonily.

"It's, um," Miho fumbled, swallowing as she felt herself grow just a bit more self-conscious, "very nice that you placed a genjutsu on us. More people would notice you, wouldn't they? Then you'd have a lot more trouble on her hands than you already do."

"So you admit it?" he asked, voice so deep and so sudden that she felt her checks flush just as she jumped up, bringing her hands to her chest.

She tried to cover it all up with a cough but in the end just gave up, instead asking, "Admit to what?"

Madara sighed, returning back to his wordless self as they continued to walk alongside the growing population of people that milled around them. She found herself squeezing in closer to Madara as a result, just barely holding back on reaching out to touch him.

It was the sort of thing that made her realize just how much she actually relied on touch—which was ironic, coming form her terrible relationship with her sensitive skin. But still, Miho _liked_ touching, at least nowadays where she wasn't so overtly sensitive to it.

Yet, with Madara, she was far too intimidated to even try to initiate the contact with him that she thought he wouldn't have liked.

Regrettably, destroying all of her attempts to remain polite and distant, the population of the streets began to grow exponentially. Around her, much to her discomfort, they crowded all around her with loud shouts, laughter, and excitement. It was almost like being back in Uzushio for a moment, despite their island having never been so crowded.

Pressing her hands to her mouth, she found herself being crushed into his side, his warmth leeching in through her robes. It only made her skin feel hotter, spreading across her arms and up her neck before she began to feel her brain lose a touch of clarity. It was with a sharp yelp of pain that she felt a stranger's elbow dig into her ribcage before she moved closer into the only person she felt comfortable with.

Then, upon hearing an exasperated grunt of a sigh, his right arm went around her back, effortlessly sweeping her up into a reliable hold. Dazed, Miho felt her arms instinctively going up to wrap around his neck as she tucked herself in closer. With that, his chin touched her forehead briefly before she found herself holding back a shrill shriek upon feeling a sudden shift in her gravity. Ruthless, Madara jumped up from the street and onto the rooftops, landing as smoothly as he had picked her up.

With ease, he held her close to his chest, racing and flinging them from rooftop to rooftop before coming to a rough stop. She felt breathless from having held it for so long, shaking faintly as he let her down onto her unsure feet.

"The vantage point is better here," he murmured close to her ear, hand still resting on her back before straightening his own out.

"Ah," Miho whimpered after she nearly slipped on the roof tiles, instinctively reaching out for his hand as she clung to him, "Sorry," she whispered to him before he helped her sit down, coming to sit thigh to thigh beside her, their legs coming to casually dangle over the heads of the many villagers showing up to see the sakura trees blossom.

She attempted to let go of his hand to save face, but she never had been the best with heights. With a queasy feeling in her stomach, Miho kept her hold on him with as much determination as she could muster. It was all she could do not to let her head fall to his shoulder, still trying to stop the faint feeling she had in her head.

Madara looked down at her, his eyes sharp on her before she felt his body move with the sigh. He made no efforts to pull away, only looking away from her and to the large rows of trees looking ready to burst with the amount of soft pink petals fluttering on the branches.

Slowly but surely, Miho found herself calming down and unknowingly found herself leaning on him as she got lost in the sight of the sakura trees.

"It feels too soon," he said softly, so soft that she almost couldn't make it out.

"Why?" she asked in a voice just above a whisper, watching as the petals unfurled at the pressure of the wind, coming to dance delicately on the breeze before falling. She smiled, coming to feel a different sort of quiet settle in herself, taking the chance to look at his face.

Somehow, despite the peace that imbued itself within her at the sight of the blossoming trees, Madara simply looked…mournful.

His expression soft, almost unreadable for emotion, his eyes looked on at the sight with an entirely different air than she had expected. Always hard to gauge his reactions in the first place, she had to assess everything, looking at him intently as if to crack the puzzle. It made her want to touch him, an odd desire that led her to imagining it in her thoughts, wondering how he would react if she just reached out her hand to…

Miho shook her head, finding herself unconsciously sighing.

"The seasons change," he murmured, surprising her with his candor, bringing his fingers out to catch a petal in motion, "whether we are prepared for them to come or not."

"For me, that's why I love them," she responded, gazing at the petal on his fingertips, "because it is something to rely on with certainty."

He turned silent, his eyes still trained on the trees as she watched the heads of villagers and shinobi alike passed underneath their feet. She knew that the viewing itself would only go on for an hour, the amount of time it took for the entire population of the capital to take in the view and then make their way to the feast, which would soon lead to the music and then to the poetry reading.

It was one of the few festivals that were opened up freely to the public, a time where the poor would get to have their fill of the fine foods that would be prepared for the occasion. It would be a festival where nothing bad happened and one of the only few days that temporary truces would be called.

It probably had a lot to do with the fact that everyone could agree on one thing; watching nature unfold could never fail to incite a reaction, an emotion. The sakura trees, the staple of their land, could so uniquely bring them together that, growing up, Miho had often dreamt of an endless festival where the petals never stopped falling

But of course that was not the reality.

"I haven't been to one of these in many years, like you," he suddenly said, meeting her gaze with a visible lack of change in his expression, "but that was because I made the choice not to attend."

"So you don't like things like this?" she asked, finding a small smile set itself onto her lips, "Festivals, gatherings, and celebrations…I had some mixed feelings on them when I was little. I loved the change in people but I was always too shy. An observer more than a partaker."

"Hn."

Miho blinked at his unconcerned response but found herself going on with little regard to his interest as she absentmindedly spoke, "When I first performed it had been a year after I'd began practicing with the koto. I remember being so… _overwhelmed_ by all of it. Although it was a small crowd, I felt all of their gazes on me to an almost painful extent. I worried that a string would break on me, my hands were shaking so hard…"

"I know," he murmured suddenly, a small twitch of his lips signaling a smile, "I can remember it."

"Remember?" Miho blinked before finding herself laughing, "Oh! That's right, you probably know everything about me."

"Not everything," he admitted, "I only had a few hours but…a lot, I do know."

"So unfair," she breathed out, looking him into his eyes directly, "I wish I could know more…" she trailed off, looking away when she realized how much she already _did_ know.

"It's better the less you do, Sak-Miho."

She didn't know why, but his lack of honorific was less insulting and more…comforting. It was also a bit alarming that he didn't seem to know her name very well with how he stuttered to correct himself. She decided she didn't mind for the pure sake of having witnessed him mess up.

Looking away with a small, calm smile, her gaze came lingered on the biggest tree, watching as the pink petals drifted slowly in the sky, just as pretty as the first time she had seen it happen. She dreamed of one day having a big tree like this to always look at, to come out after a long day and just watch the wind brush through the leaves.

Kind of like the one she had in her backyard when growing up, coming out to watch it at night and perhaps sing if she felt up to it. The sort of pastime she had been unable to do for years after having grown to be too busy. Things had changed a whole lot since the time she had been nine, gazing up at the sky as if it contained all of the answers.

And then, just like that, it suddenly hit her.

She was _alive_.

Despite all that had happened, Miho had lived to…

"I'm twenty-two," she abruptly murmured surprised that she had somehow watched it pass by in a blur, "May third passed five days ago."

But more than that, Miho was now a twenty-two-year-old Jinchuuriki and stuck with a clan not her own for another eleven months. After all, she had still yet to receive any word from her sister and would just have to assume that things were going well for them.

Because, really, she had no clue what Madara would do with her if Hashirama failed. She _had_ offered herself completely, and even now she stuck by those words. If only, for the sake of everything she believed in, to change the world.

If not…Izuna might not be alive to see building of Konoha.

"His birthday is in early February, right?" Miho asked, just to be sure as she met his downturned gaze, feeling her chin rub gently against his grey sleeve. It was then, feeling the heat of the sun and the cool breeze of the wind softly brushing across her cheeks, that Miho acutely began to realize just exactly how close she was to him. She paused, her shoulders tensing up as she shifted away, trying to hide her embarrassment as she timidly shifted her gaze away from him.

"The tenth," he murmured in response to her question, motionless and with no clear show of emotion in his voice. Bracing herself, Miho looked up to assess his expression, noting how indifferent he appeared to be with her actions. It made her feel just a little bit better about her refusal to let go of his hand as she gripped it tightly in her own.

She truly did despite heights, feeling her stomach protest every single time she dared to look down.

Still, feeling his hand in hers, so strangely warm and firm, Miho couldn't help but find herself flush in response. She didn't know whether to panic that she was holding onto the palm of a man that could kill her before she even realized it was happening, or just feel guilty that it was something she was subjecting him to.

Quietly, hearing her voice tremor just a touch, she murmured out, "Sorry."

"Hn," he intoned deeply, his eyes turning to directly into hers.

She wondered how exactly he did it; making her feel so small and yet so protected.

Miho blinked, cocking her head to the side with questions on her lips, brows raising as she murmured out softly, "l…I regret having ever thought wrongly of you, Madara-san. You have been so kind to me, with all you have done, and I don't know how I will be able to repay it." When he said nothing in reply, only continuing to look at her to an almost unnerving extent, Miho pursed her lips and sighed, "You are perhaps the most confusing man I have ever met, it's been quite perplexing."

"What did you think of me?" he asked, so suddenly that she could only dumbly stare at him, unsure of what to say.

Then, gathering her thoughts as fast as she could, Miho found herself smiling, "The point of your character was one of mystery, where the reader never knew what would happen or what you would do next. A genius, you have manipulated so many people into doing what you wanted of them, eventually becoming so overpowered that well…It was almost ridiculous, but have you heard of Usagi no Megami?"

With an almost imperceptible nod, Miho continued, finding herself absent-mindedly playing with his fingers, "The progenitor of chakra, her tale is one that many do not believe in, thinking that she's just a tale, but she was real, _very_ real, and so was the Shinju where she got the fruit from. Kaguya Otsutsuki, ah, you kind of did what she did and trapped everyone in an endless dream. So, you were the bad guy in some people's perspective."

"In yours?" he asked, surprising her. She would have thought he'd definitely focus on the fact that he had the power to trap people in dreams forever, or even on the more important fact that Kaguya was real.

Hesitantly, Miho gave an honest answer as she kept her eyes on his, "I thought you were…determined to find peace—determined to make a world where Izuna hadn't died and where you never felt betrayed. I didn't think you were a bad man, just rather misguided and missing the important details."

"Details?" his brow lifted, the first shift in his expression that she could visibly take in.

Miho looked away for a moment, unsure of how to word it as she found herself taking in the view of the sakura trees. Quietly, she reached into the air and grabbed a petal, bringing it into her hands as she smiled at it, almost regretfully, "I think that you hadn't known the power in the human soul, or the fact that we have choices for a reason. The world was never meant for a peace, and it never will be."

Madara openly frowned at her, "Then why are you trying so hard for it?"

At that, she laughed, turning the petal over in her fingertips before setting it gently on his open palm, so rough and covered in scars, the complete opposite to her own. It couldn't be helped, she supposed, and like that, Miho murmured, "It is up to each generation to decide what sort of era it will be, whether it will be soaked in blood or not. I believe that, because we have choice, it will be worked hard for and that much more rewarding. After all, if we never knew struggle, I don't think anyone could truly be at peace."

"Sakura," he whispered, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, "you're rather strange."

Miho flushed before it sunk in, the very fact that he called her such a thing. She blinked rapidly, jaw going slack before she could gather herself. With flushed cheeks and a flustered demeanor, Miho could barely even whisper as she asked, "Did you just call me Sakura?"

He nodded, smirk still in place, "It suits you better than your name."

"B-But," she stuttered out, unsure of what to say, "but, it's not _my_ name. It's the name of a girl that will be born long after we're both dead and who will eventually marry into your family, ah…maybe not? Oh, Madara-san!" Miho nearly shouted, surprising herself as she felt the information sink in, "I didn't even think about the future generations and what our actions could do to them! Who knows if they'll even be _born_ now."

"I've seen them for myself," he murmured with a small shrug, "it wouldn't be a crushing loss."

"You only say that 'cause it's them that stops you in the end!" Miho huffed out before sticking her tongue out at him.

"You're so childish, Sakura," he murmured, a clearly sadistic grin forming on his mug.

Miho dropped his hand like it was on fire before turning away to sulk quietly, crossing her arms over her torso as she determinedly refused to look over at him for the duration of their stay on the death-inducing roof.

Madara chuckled next to her, itching at her curiosity to see what it looked like for him to laugh. But then, much to her surprise, he stood up. Clearly leaving the traces of his sound just to mess with her, the clack of him walking off the roof casually rang in her ears as she tried not to look up.

Her stomach sank, wondering if he had actually just abandoned her on the roof. Even just daring to peek out over into the streets had her nerves setting themselves alight with fear as she tried not to move too much. She squeezed her eyes shut but still refused to look to see if he had actually gone, instead focusing on controlling her breathing as it tried to speed up. There was no controlling the tempo of her heartbeat as it began to race within her chest.

Then, upon shifting just slightly, Miho found her concentration breaking as she nearly slid off the roof and into the streets still filled with people. Barely just stopping it with her geta jamming itself into cracks, Miho hung there in a precarious position, on the verge of slipping if she moved only a pinch.

Quietly and with her voice shaking, she called out hesitantly, "Madara-san?"

There was no answer, making her curse him with colorful words in her head before braving the danger as she looked around. He stood there with an unimpressed smirk, arms crossing over his torso as he watched her.

Brows creasing and the profanities getting only that much more vehement, Miho winced as she murmured out hesitantly, "Can you please help me down before I get myself killed?"

"It depends," he replied, gazing down at her with the very same merciless smile as before, "on whether I get to call you what I want since I basically own you."

"Really?" Miho asked, incredulous, "That's all you want?"

"It's just scratching the surface on all that I want," he replied, his smile only growing.

Groaning to herself, Miho relented, cringing as she said the final words, "Fine, call me what you want."

"Wonderful," Madara noted before flashing before her in an instant and picking her up as casually as he had the first time.

Then, as disorienting as it was the first time, he ran across the various homes and shops before careening them both past all of the festival goers. It was like an instance just vanished before her eyes as she clung to him desperately, trying to keep down her graceless puke the faster he went.

Before she knew it and after sending up a prayer, Miho found herself being set down and wobbling across the grass as she attempted to find her head after having lost it on the way there.

"Good night, Sakura," he murmured with a touch of humor in his tone, before she could even figure out where they were.

Miho blinked, "But it's still the evening…"

There was no answer to her rebuttal as she took a minute to gather her senses, struggling to set the spinning world aside. It probably took more than a few minutes before she could move again without wanting to puke and as she finally took the sights in around her, Miho found herself gazing up at the clan home.

Completely alone.

**Cherry Tree – End**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References:
> 
> In case you need a brief rundown of all the terms dealing with the Kaguya story.
> 
> Usagi no Megami – Rabbit Goddess and the first woman to have chakra after eating a fruit, her name is Kaguya, as I'm sure you all know by now.
> 
> Shinju – God Tree, the tree in which the fruit came from.


	15. Give & Take

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say to the people actually waiting for updates on this; if you read on fanfiction, you get chapters as soon as they become available. I'm a little slow when it comes to AO3 though.
> 
> (Also, just in case anyone gets confused with the caste system, I do want to let you know that caste doesn’t represent power in a time like this, filled with so much turmoil and uncertainty. Miho misinterprets a lot of things being as she is not a politician and just assumed what the other civilians assumed.)

**Ｗ** **ｉｌｌ　ｏｆ　Ｆｉｒｅ**

 **_Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ_ ** **_15_ **

_One day I will be gone._

**Give & Take**

Kazunari Uzumaki had always thought of himself as both a loving father and a loving husband; all while maintaining his unbeatable strength that had gifted him his position in the first place. Nothing short of a monster on the battlefield, Kazunari had killed countless lives in his fifty-year lifetime. So many that a lot of the times they all blended together, vaguer each time he stepped back into his home and into the arms of his wife.

It was her, Shiomi, that kept him sane despite all of the trying times that had kept leaning towards insanity.

He thought his daughters took after more than himself, which made him all the more grateful towards her after having watched their two daughters blossom into the people they had somehow become. Like magic, almost. Like a piece of time had just passed over in the few moments it took for his children to become full grown.

Mito, just like her mother, had remained truthful and full of the justice that had led her to protecting her little sister. Albeit stubborn, much like himself, she opened up only to few and protected them with the fierce and strong attitude she bore as well as the expertise in shinobi arts. Yet he never did forget how tiny she had used to be, and how she had once looked up at him with wide, trusting eyes. This, before those eyes sharpened and grew harsher over time.

She was not like her sister, who had somehow remained the same painfully shy girl that had once cried into his lap over not being able to fit into her lessons. It would have been a lie to say she hadn’t grown; Miho had once been an inconsolable child who had begun to cry before he could even lay a hand on her. A bit of a nightmare to handle when he didn’t know how to control his strength, amazed and horrified each time her skin would redden to a painful extent whenever he attempted to hold her.

To make up for it--over the fact that he was able to swing Mito up onto his shoulders while merely holding his youngest daughter’s hand even as she stared up with those soft, barely noticeable frowns--Kazunari had bought more kimono than he had ever thought he would upon learning he was to have a child in the very first place. First it was that, but then it quickly turned into paying for the expensive music lessons and eventually paying for her travel.

But eventually it all had begun to pay for itself the moment she had turned fourteen.

Back then he had been wondering what they would do with her; after all, unlike her sister, Miho was... _different_. Whether it was because she was much too sensitive or whether it was because she had eventually refused to delve any deeper into shinobi arts after having spent years dedicating herself to only fuinjustu...well, it had been a bit of a disappointment to him. He had thought, upon seeing her skill with it, that she would be a prodigy in their clan’s craft, even much more than her sister.

But Miho was already too far gone into music and unlikely to pop her head out of it just to go back into the classes that once made her come home sobbing.

Kazunari thought he might have made the best choice in leading her away from the life of a shinobi but then...then he had an even dumber idea.

And somehow this led him to staring down at Miho’s request, written her beautiful shorthand, with long elegant strokes that made it undeniable that it was from her.

If he had known that it would have spiraled out of control like it had, that his daughter would have aligned herself with the Uchiha--what was she _thinking_?--before deciding on taking a business idea gone too far then he would...he would have...

He would have never introduced her to music.

Kazunari winced just thinking about it, quickly shaking his head with a sigh, “No, I would have never set her on that made up mission.”

But, like his wife had always said, when it was too late to change things, it was best to go forward. A truth he had to accept upon realizing that actions could never be taken back. Something that often made him think back to his youngest child, the one with the loveliest gaze every time she smiled with her painted lips.

Kazunari sighed heavily, rolling up his daughter’s message before setting it aside and leaning on his elbows as he mournfully looked out the window.

He missed them both.

**Give & Take**

“So how do you intend to get the Nara on our side?” Mito asked doubtfully as they walked at an amicable pace. She felt too full to let herself run after having just eaten what felt like a horse, feeling the beef settling in her gut. The Akimichi were far too hospitable for her own good, after having seen the mountain of food they had just so simply offered.

Hashirama’s hand clenched at his stomach as he grimaced, “Well…we just got the Akimichi on our side.”

“But only if we get the Nara clan to agree. You should know how much they value the opinion of their allies,” Mito reminded him before breathing out a sigh, “I don’t know if I want to go back there again.”

“It was all so delicious,” Hashirama noted mournfully.

Mito had to nod, sighing softly as she thought back to the taste and texture the Akimichi clan was somehow able to craft. She didn’t think she’d ever have anything as delicious and most likely, never would again. It was rather regretful in a way and almost admirable that they were still fearsome shinobi despite their outer appearance of jovial smiles and welcoming hugs.

She didn’t doubt for a second that if she let them, they could have torn into her—they _were_ a noble clan for a reason. Mito would have never expected it but they were the _messier_ ones in a fight, terrible and relentless. She had once seen an Akimichi in a fight, having been hidden away as she watched on in abject horror. Which made it all the more awkward now that she thought about the jokes that had been tossed around during the dinner.

“Do you really think they’d just up and marry the heir of a clan to another clan? Mine is powerful but it isn’t a game changer and for them it doesn’t mean anything special,” Mito said quietly, sliding her glance to Hashirama, who merely shrugged.

“It would be advantageous. Not politically, sure, but by force alone,” he explained, “The Uzumaki have helped my clan fundamentally, haven’t they? We have not only increased our value as a shinobi strength, but also have had the children of intermarriages prove to be much more competent and rising in rank almost twice as fact.”

Mito made a grimace as she looked at him, “All about good breeding, then, eh?”

“Everyone in this world sees that the Uzumaki have the ability to become a powerhouse, an uncontrollable one. It’s just that your clan has never been much for politics and even if they were, your tempers far overrule your ability to think.”

Mito scoffed, “My dad can too be in politics! In fact, he’s been advancing quite well, I’d say, with how many terrible matches he’s gotten my sister out of. She could have been married to a Daimyo when she was fifteen!”

“And then your father stopped it because he thought her too young,” Hashirama finished for her with a slim smile, “which I happen to think was the best choice for her, but others would not have.”

“What do you mean?” Mito asked, very nearly stumbling on a rock before catching herself and moving on as if nothing happened.

“In honor to the family, his choices have always been right,” Hashirama softly said, despite how his voice carried through the forest they walked in, “but in duty, he should have very well married her off early to establish political advances.”

Mito frowned at that, “I always thought honor and duty was sort of the same though...but besides, if a marriage was meant to be, I think it would have happened by now.”

“Maybe it already is?” Hashirama wondered and at that, Mito felt her entire face sour before she gave a fierce punch to her companion, watching as he almost humorously was sent flying, smacking right into a tree and making it burst with splinters.

“We’re getting off track!” Mito yelled over to him before calmly making her way across to him to lift him up by the lining of his robes, “Now, tell me if you have a plan for the Nara clan or not!”

“I was just gonna wing it,” he admitted, pulling up his hands to block his face.

Nearly wanting to throttle the man for having wasted her time, Mito instead pulled him up to his feet and smacked his arm with a rough grunt, “Let’s go already, you stupid man.”

“So are we just gonna wing it?” Hashirama asked, rubbing at his arm before cautiously following after her.

“No,” she said powerfully, “I have a plan and you’re just gonna have to ‘ _wing_ ’ your support for it.”

“Mito-chan!” Hashirama cried out, undoubtedly wanting to be in the know.

She simply smiled and kept her silence.

**Give & Take**

“Hng,” Miho groaned, shifting in her futon before groggily sweeping at her eyes.

“Your letter from Sakiko-hime came in,” Takara’s soft sweet voice lilted in like the spring breeze through the thin rice paper.

Immediately at the good news, Miho jolted out of her bed in her excitement. It had been a good week or two of waiting in the limbo of just needing the rights. Her building had been finished off, the decorating having been done within the hour of having command of three perky kunoichi. Then the shipment of equipment had come in the next day, allowing Miho to finally feel the reality of things coming together.

So, wasting not a moment, Miho made her way over to where Takara stood, holding within her hands the scrolls that looked to be polished and sealed with the royal family crest. She grinned at the sight of it before gently taking it into her hands and turning away from Takara, who smoothly excused herself.

“Oh my word,” Miho breathed as the scroll unfurled itself to reveal a bright red ‘受け入れる’. Okay, okay. She needed to calm down. Except, she couldn’t because she _had been accepted._

Very nearly shrieking in joy, Miho found herself pumping her fist into the air and giggling madly to herself before racing out of her room, down the hall, and into Madara’s.

“I got accepted,” she announced, popping her head into the room with a grin. Then, noticing the way he looked up with a grimace from his stack of papers, Miho felt her excitement shrink just a bit. But not enough to get her to shut up as she lowered her voice and said, “I got Sakiko to talk to her dad to give his stamp of approval on the school.”

“And?” he asked, lifting a brow, “Such matters don’t concern me.”

Despite the numbing tone to his voice, Miho prevailed with a softer smile, “I just thought you might have liked to know what the outcome of it was. We did spend a lot of money on this…ah, you should also know that I’m working on getting into contact with my father so that he’ll send me my savings. I’ll repay you then.”

“Hn,” he intoned dispassionately, expression bored and uncaring.

“Okay, ‘ttekisa,” Miho whispered nervously before backing out of the room and aiming to shut the door.

Yet before she could, Madara called out to her and asked in a soft voice, “Sakura, will you sit down and answer a question for me?”

She cringed at the name but ended up nodding as she entered his room and kneeled beside him, hands placed delicately on her knees as she settled herself into her usual strict posture. In comparison, he openly slouched, leaning back with his hands on the floor. Miho tried not to flush upon seeing the opening of his yukata, revealing a toned chest and a nicely dark coloring of his skin.

Miho swallowed and instead met his gaze, noting how he silently watched her.

Things were silent between them before he finally sighed, “You’re the jinchuuriki but you’re a shinobi born civilian.”

She nodded, “I can perform fuinjutsu but my chakra control isn’t as good as it should be and I don’t have the best connection with it…”

“No, you sealed the bijuu within you under a moment’s notice. An amateur doesn’t have such ability,” he explained, tone dangerous before he shook his head, long tresses bouncing along his back. She wanted to touch his hair—only because she wanted to brush it and perhaps decorate it with pins and flowers. She thought he might have looked very beautiful with a lily in his hair.

Izuna would have perhaps looked even better with the lily, however. So, maybe…

Miho shook her head of the thoughts, clearing her throat before mumbling out softly, “I didn’t know it would work, and also, what happened must have been a fluke because I don’t normally have so much chakra…my chains aren’t even strong enough to lift up a teacup.” She laughed nervously at her poor attempt at a joke. There was not even a trace of humor in his eyes.

“Flukes don’t exist in the world of shinobi, Sakura,” he murmured, eyes meeting hers seriously, “whatever ability you used then to seal that beast within you, it’s something that you have access to.”

“Why bring up all this stuff now?” she asked, leaning forward curiously before remembering herself and leaning back, attempting to school her features.

“I’ve decided that I will be setting you up into chakra classes when you are free to do so,” he explained, levelheaded in his tone as he sat up straighter, “I’d like to have a copy of your schedule so that I may make the proper adjustments.”

“Okay,” Miho said weakly, although she was already loathing the day she started taking classes again. Already feeling nervous at the prospect of it, Miho merely mumbled out, “I’ll be free on the weekends, when I’m not teaching classes…”

“Understood then,” he intoned severely, “I should have done this sooner, but I expect you to work hard. It would certainly be unfit if you were unable to do well. I can only imagine the wrecked devastation a freed bijuu would cause on the streets of the capital.”

Miho nodded, paling considerably before nodding once more, “Yes, that’s true. I will work hard.”

“It would be best if you left now, Sakura,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument.

She sighed before standing up, smiling as best she could before dipping into a low bow. Then, raising her head as high as it would go, she left the room.

She had known it would have been inevitable, but the reality was that she hated being schooled in shinobi arts. Even if her skin were a bit less sensitive, she wasn’t entirely certain that she could ever make it as a strong kunoichi. Her sister, as terrifyingly strong as she was, would never be as weak as Miho, who similarly could never be as strong as Mito. More than ever, with the stakes raised against an entire city, the fear of failure lingered in the air around her as she inched towards her room.

Miho wondered if the bright side would be finally getting to meet Saiken. That would be nice.

**Give & Take**

“She’s going to be really upset with you,” Hashirama noted as they trudged out of the Nara clan home. Mito looked to him and scowled before huffing out a rough sigh.

“As long as she gets kept away from the Uchiha,” Mito said stubbornly as she turned to glare at the path before them.

“But still,” he murmured, “you think tossing her into the Nara clan will do any good? I think we should trust in her and the choices she made on her own.”

“It’s not likely to go through,” Mito explained as she looked to Hashirama, “the Nara don’t typically branch out into other clans unless they’ve thought it through. They’ll most likely want other terms to go by, something similar to the pact we have with the Senju. Although, a marriage proposal always shows promise, which is what I intended by using her name.”

“Hashirama-chan still thinks that you made a mistake and that maybe Miho-chan will be upset to have been doubted,” Hashirama said with a straight face, making Mito pause in her steps as she whipped around to look at him head on.

“Really? Hashirama-chan? No,” she said, voice strict, “stop.”

“Hashirama-chan is hurt but will stop for his future wife,” he said, making her acutely feel the urge to slap him and that awful smile on his face.

“Okay, okay, enough of that,” Mito ground out as she resumed walking, attempting to shrug off the annoyances of the day. “For now, we have them contemplating and when we’re back in a week, I’m sure we’ll have _something_ to show for it. After all, a pact with my clan can be very helpful, didn’t you say?”

“Mito-chan is so smart,” he commented, tone loving as he followed after her impactful strides.

**Give & Take**

“Oh, how wonderful!” Miho said animatedly before moving to grasp the hands of the woman, who smiled back up at her. She was tinier than Miho, about three inches shorter and her slim, narrow limbs only seemed to add to the child-like features of the seventeen-year-old.

Yumi Hikita looked every bit as perfect for the job as she was qualified to do it. After all, she had a background in childcare and having worked as a handmaid for the Kagetsu family, one of the most well-known clans in the entire land. With that, Yumi seemed to have both the experience and the dedication that Miho needed in her startup school. It also meant that she didn’t have to train the girl for an excessively long time.

A week should do, she thought. A month at most to be sure she would have the staff to account for the mass of prospective students she had been flooded with. Mostly girls, it seemed, had applied to be a part of it, whether it was as a teacher or student. Probably because Miho had done most of her advertising around them.

Miho just couldn’t _describe_ how excited she was that within the month her school would be fully established.

“Miho-san, I am just in _love_ with your idea,” Yumi chirped excitedly, bringing the Uzumaki out of her thoughts, “a place where one can learn all of these amazing things? Well, when I read the poster I was intrigued from the very start! I’ll just have you know that I _love_ children and I especially love to cook and so getting to mix the two of those? Well, that’s just a dream job, I tell you.”

“I’m so glad,” Miho said with a grin, “It took a while but I’m so pleased to have such a quick response from you and I’m really thankful that you took the time out of your day to come in for this interview!”

“Yes, of course!” Yumi excitedly replied, nearly to the point of shaking as she stood, her pretty pink curls bouncing around her as her bright blue eyes gleamed.

“I’ll be contacting you soon about the training, Yumi-san,” Miho said with a smile, surprising even herself when she went in to hug the younger girl. She was readily embraced back as the slight girl gave a surprisingly strong squeeze before the two of them pulled away.

Miho blinked sluggishly, cheeks heating up in a way that she hadn’t expected to happen before her grin widened, “Please be safe on your way home.”

“Of course, thank you so much for having met with me,” Yumi said, voice soft as her own cheeks flushed with what Miho could on read as happiness. Then, watching the waifish girl leave out through the doors, Miho turned back to the instruments she had finally gotten unpacked.

From what she had gathered in setting up what was sure to be subpar applications with around thirty students, she had worried she wouldn’t have the instruments she needed but she was quickly proved wrong when Sakiko had gifted her with donations. She found Miho’s idea quaint and interesting enough to spend a few thousand ryo.

Which only made it easier on Miho as she unfortunately realized that the school would be running at a loss with her setting up contracts with the parents for payment. It was surprising how many mothers had been hounding her, wishing to bargain off anything that would get their daughters and sons into her school. They talked about how wonderful a person she was, as Miho could never think to turn down what they offered even if it meant that some families were paying more than others.

Miho supposed eventually they could run donation later on if the losses ran too high but she was more than willing to chip in the entirety of her personal savings to keep the school functioning. That is, after she paid the Uchiha back after all.

With a smile, she looked at all of the empty spots in the room, just fantasizing about what it would be like to finally meet all of them.  She wondered if she would regret this decision to go all in on something she wasn’t sure would work out but the bigger part of her was certain about her choices; certain in ways she never had been before.

Confidence filled her as she looked over at all she had done to prepare, gazing at the beautiful interior with the green tea colored seats and the polished walls. Even the tiny koto, made for children starting out, gleamed in the lighting with its wood freshly polished, the strings looking taut and ready to be stroked.

She couldn’t resist the allure as she made her way over to her own koto, bigger than the others and with a full set of seventeen strings in comparison to the thirteen strings the other koto had. Hers was what most would consider a bass koto, with a deeper sound due to the broader range. For the most part she imagined she’d leave the other four strings alone in her lessons.

Almost unconsciously, Miho adjusted the white bridge closest to her, watching as the strings in the loop tightened in response. Then she picked up her picks and settled them on her fingertips before beginning to smoothly caress the cords. Humming along with the tune that rose up, Miho began to mindlessly play what came to mind as she watched her fingers pluck at the strings, her thumb running over them fluidly.

To everything she played, she hummed a long forgotten melody and soon got so wrapped up into her thoughts and memories that everything else just fell away. Like matching her heartbeat, Miho felt the music more than she felt her own movement, feeling like layers were falling off her body. Each breathe that left her body, left it like a note of music lilting into the air.

_Crassshhh!_

Miho jumped, hands lifting up from the koto with fear that she would break the strings before looking up to see a flushing sixteen-year-old boy staring at her as he swept up pieces of broken glass into his hands. Her brows lifted before she could rise and help him, shocked that Ryota was there in her school and that he had already made a mess.

With a quirk of her lips, Miho couldn’t help but laugh openly before she moved away from the koto and hurried over to help him before he cut him—

“Ow!”

—self.

“Well,” Miho said, tone placating before she continued, “you shouldn’t have tried to pick it all up with your _hands_.”

“Noted,” he grumbled out before he met her gaze and flushed almost instantly, “Mi-Miho-sama…”

“Sama?” Miho asked, then snorted, “I’m not married _yet_ and even if I were, we’re friends. Friends go beyond keigo.”

“Miho-san?” he tried to be sure, smiling when she gave a nod.

She would have told him to drop the honorific entirely had she not been fearful about leading him on…er, _romantically._

Hesitantly, she smiled back as the silence between them extended from something that had been relatively comfortable just a few moments ago. She swallowed, offering a weak laugh before delicately using her long sleeves to cup the glass in her hands.

“What brought you here?” she asked as casually as she could before stand, quickly depositing the shards into the bin on the furthest side of the wall.

“Um, actually, I,” Ryota started before sucking in a breath and pausing, meeting her gaze with a grimace, “It’s the flyer…you wanted to gather some teachers, right? Well, I want to apply.”

“Apply?” Miho echoed, surprised to the point of feeling her jaw drop just a bit, “Apply for what position?’

“Teacher,” he said, nervously fidgeting where he stood, as she hadn’t heard him the first time.

“No, I mean, um, like the subject you’ll teach…”

“Right! Right…right, _that_ ,” Ryota chuckled spastically before he tried for a toothy grin, “Self-defense!”

“Self-defense?” Miho repeat, interest peaked as she unconsciously moved closer to him.

 “I told you before, didn’t I? That I was the strongest in my batch, I wasn’t lying but…uh, this is kind of embarrassing…”

“You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to,” Miho murmured softly, sheepishly pulling back from him.

“I got injured,” he explained, pointing to his leg as he shifted it to the side.

Miho felt her hands to her mouth as she gasped in shock, noting how terrible it must have felt to stand on it. Miho cringed against what she imagined to be his pain, taking in the distinct lack of mass in his leg that looked bruised and cut up beyond recognition.

“How are you even walking?” Miho asked, wincing as she knelt down for a better look. She should have stayed standing, regretting it immediately as she realized what was truly wrong with his leg; bits of his muscle had been taken out. It almost looked like a doctor had simply stitched what remained back together in hope that it would heal up.

“It hurts, not gonna lie, but more than that,” Ryota sighed, “more than that, I can’t train or leave for any missions until it’s healed. I’m hoping I can make a comeback but…but the iryo-nin working on me said it was as unlikely as seeing peace in our lifetime.”

Miho frowned at the analogy, then shook her head before she could say anything snappy in response. It was true how _unlikely_ it was, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a chance. It just was…too unlikely. Even an optimist like herself, seeing his wound, couldn’t see him returning back to what he had once been.

It was a miracle in and of itself, watching him stand before her with an expression that gave nothing away about the pain he must have been feeling.

Sighing, Miho stood up and met his gaze.

“I’m just glad she didn’t amputate it like she wanted to,” he mumbled, scratching at his cheek.

She said nothing, only feeling her frown deepen, pressing into a thin line.

With a bittersweet smile, Ryota took her hand in his, “So, would you consider me even knowing my circumstances?”

“Self-defense, huh?” Miho wondered, then ushered him into her arms as she nodded against the side of his face, realizing for the first time that he had shot up to her height in her absence. She pulled away from the hug with a smile, “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Ryota-kun.”

He smiled back, “Thank you.”

“No,” she whispered, coming to a second realization as he calmly regarded her. He’d matured since then too. He looked more his age than ever before, perhaps even older, his eyes clear and his skin a healthy pallor. Ryota looked, for lack of a better word, _grown_.

“No,” Miho repeated softly, chuckling to herself before moving away, “thank _you_.”

**Give & Take**

Mito groaned into the palm of her hands, simply feeling useless as she sat outside on the steps that led into the Hatake clan abode. But she’d rather take being outside watching dirt than inside with the prick that ran one of the most feared clans on the northern side of Hi no Kuni any day. _Any day_.

Yet she was regretting the decision just a touch, knowing the entire negotiations relied on Hashirama’s ability to stomach the _ass_ that was the not-so-humble, and not-so-nice, Kaishi Hatake. Coz what a _bitch_ that guy could be, simply parading around like he was the shit and then completely ignoring his betters—especially _when she beat him fair and square_.

If Mito had a goat, she would have said this got her goat.

He pissed her off more than anyone else in the world—even more so than the Uchiha! The _Uchiha_ never went out and performed dickish and graceless actions, insulting the very fabric of a person. Which warmed that other godawful clan to her heart as if they were innocent children that hadn’t killed her clansmen. Ugh. She didn’t know how Miho could stomach _living_ with them.

The point was; if Mito had anything to do about it, she would be letting his grandchildren know what an enormous prick he was because she wasn’t dying till she felt like it. Which wasn’t soon. It would be like her way of giving back to the world, her way of bringing peace to the future generation. She would make sure the Hatake clan wasn’t run by an _asshole_ or—or!—a moron. Otherwise she didn’t see it lasting long as a clan at all.

At the very least she would most assuredly be letting his future generations know who had been the man to gamble all of their money away on meaningless games, only to flaunt small winnings on literal whores off the street that didn’t know what they were getting into—.

She heard laughter. _Why_ did she hear laughter?

Paranoid, Mito rose up from her seat and found herself peeking into the door only to feel both her jaw drop and her stomach tighten. With a bad taste in her mouth, Mito pulled back and tried to shake the image away as best she could, returning to the steps, determined not to go in there and slaughter them all.

“ _Gambling_?” she hissed darkly, unfortunately finding that the scene replayed in her head as she watched Hashirama touch the chips on the table with that dumbass grin on his face. Groaning to herself, she couldn’t help but reach a hand up to cup the balls of red on her head before squeezing it. She felt a little better after that, if a little bit silly.

But still.

“ _Gambling_?” she hissed again, just as darkly, before going back to watching the dirt.

(Mito wouldn’t know until much, _much_ later but perhaps… _perhaps_ this was the start of the Senju clan downfall.)

**Give & Take**

 A month later, and after a ridiculous amount of both people and training, Miho soon found herself smiling at the mass of children fidgeting in their seats as they all glanced towards each other, towards herself and the four other teachers beside her.

Officially the school day had started, meaning that the day was her _first_ day as both a teacher and an over glorified principal of kinds. She could feel the nerves in her begin to flare up considerably, making her almost breathless as she got an entirely different sort of stage fright.

Beside her, Ryota shifted where he stood and unconsciously she glanced at his leg before taking in a small breath to calm her down. She needed to get this show started already.

“Hello! It’s very nice to meet you all,” Miho announced into the room, her voice soft in tone even as it carried over throughout the room. Much to her surprise, whatever chatter that had been active died almost instantly, causing her to laugh just a small bit.

“My name is Uzumaki Miho,” she said, pointing towards herself, “most recently I have been a composer and performer of music but today marks the first time I can proudly say that I’m a teacher. Thank you and your parents for allowing me this opportunity.”

Then, she bowed, her hair falling easily out of the small bun she had wrangled it into that morning. Easily she redeemed herself only in the way that she confidently let her shoulder length hair fall around her face, shaking it out before turning breathlessly to Ryota.

“It’s nice to meet you as well,” he said earnestly with an easy smile, “my name is Uchiha Ryota. I will be teaching both self-defense and any other useful skill that might help a few of you later on.” He gave a quick bow and Miho winced, just seeing the way his muscles contracted.

Quickly, as if reading her mind, Yumi openly introduced herself, all smiles and giggles, “I’m so glad to be here! It’s so nice to meet you, kiddos! I’ll be the one to keep in charge of you, walking you home, cook lunch, that sort of thing but also, also! I’m teaching all of you how to cook, isn’t that exciting!?”

Almost hesitantly, a few voices rose up in a chorus before several followed after with a range of quiet to loud responses. All of them positive.

Personally, Yumi was a bit exhausting to Miho after having spent a little over a week training her but she couldn’t help but notice how childlike she was. It would perhaps make the kids more receptive and comfortable, if anything.

Chiasa Morino went next, sweeping back her brown hair with a smile as she let her softer voice carry through the room, “Hello, Morino Chiasa is my name. I’ll be teaching mathematics and a bit of…etiquette.” Her bow was polite and firm, as if having practiced for the perfect form her entire life.

Miho wouldn’t have been surprised if she actually _had_.

Previously a geisha, having fled a dying town, Chiasa was a curious thing. She was neither shy nor one to socialize. Almost selectively social, to be exact. Miho had been nervous about hiring but hadn’t been able to pass up the chance on missing out on math being taught. Miho herself wasn’t the best about it but Chiasa’s brain seemed to work best with numbers instead of people. Having taught _her_ a thing or two in their training sessions, Chiasa seemed like she would be a great teacher if only she opened herself up a bit more.

“Mitarashi Bunko,” a new voice interjected, clearing up Miho’s thoughts as the rough woman continued, “I’ll be teaching you kids how to read, write, and I guess some history.”

Miho winced just a bit at the colder tone but again, like with Chiasa, she had been unable to pass up the chance at what Bunko represented. She had been one the rare women that had gotten a full education after her clan benefitted from being allies to the Kagetsu clan. But then Bunko, absolutely having loathed her job, eventually found the flyer and walked in, _demanding_ a place.

Being the way she was, Miho had an especially hard time trying to deny her and eventually found herself bending. Miho wondered if Bunko would have any future relations to the Mitarashi woman in her dreams. Anko, she thought her name was. It would have been nice if that was the case, kind of like knowing a piece of the future in person.

Still, looking at the children with various expressions on their faces, Miho couldn’t help but laugh to herself when Bunko took her bow.

With a grin that felt impossible to take off, Miho gazed at her class before announcing in a bright voice, “Welcome. Now, let’s begin!”

**Give & Take – End**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References Explained:
> 
> 受け入れる (Ukeireru) – To accept, receive, to agree. I was torn between using this or 了承済み(Ryoushou-zumi) which means to agree upon something or to acknowledge something.
> 
> Keigo – refers to the use of polite speech (honorifics, phrases, add-ons, etc.)
> 
> History – A lot of the political troubles in this story will now actually be based off of the Warring States Era of Japan. Specifically called Sengoku jidai (lasting from 1467 to 1603), where people fought for political power within the samurai forces, wanting to be Shogun (which is the most powerful dude, the emperor being too interested in art or sum shizz). In translation to this story, the Shogun will be a shinobi family in cahoots with the emperor while they don’t technically have a special title for him, but we’ll go ahead and call him the first shadow, the ‘Kage’. Also, a small thing, I have referred to the emperor as a king for the past few chapters and will edit them to fix that but will probs have to come back to fix that for future chapters too (king is so much easier to spell out aha). 


	16. What Is Sensible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I’ve finally taken it upon myself to map out the entire story and as you’ve noticed, this chapter is pretty short. I haven’t done a 4k update in so long, aha. You’ll be getting a lot more of those for a bit of time as I don’t want to spend the rest of my life on a story that’s going to be eighty chapters long (don’t worry, it’s not going to be eighty chapters of a romance that never bears fruit). Updates will be a lot more common because of this (although they will always be the fastest on fanfiction.net, only because I find formatting the easiest there.)

**Ｗ** **ｉｌｌ　ｏｆ　Ｆｉｒｅ**

 _**Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ** _ _**16** _

_No way to save the dying roses,_

_It’s best to save the best for last._

_And I will say; “Thank you.”, “I’ll be home”,_

_and “Goodbye”._

**What Is Sensible**

Ryota found that the world worked in mysterious ways.

Very mysterious—almost to the point of being painful.

Why else would he have lost his functionality just to end up employed by the very woman that had been painted across his mind since the moment he had first met her? It simply wasn’t _fair_ of her, to be looking at him with such warm eyes, her forever cherry red lips pulling up tightly on the ends each time she looked up at him. Absolutely _unfair_ that she would laugh soon after, having no idea the sort of dreams he’d been having about her, where she laid beneath him, her voice soft as she whispered in his ears. She had simply no clue that he would fantasize about her in the daylight, lost every time caught a sight of her.

He could imagine even then the way she would bring her soft smooth hands up to touch his face, smiling just so brightly…Ryota swallowed.

He was very sure that he was insane by this point. Otherwise, he could have easily found work elsewhere, one that wouldn’t have had to deal with _children_. He had a hard enough time controlling _himself_ as a child, how could he think he could do it with other kids?

Certainly this was the spark of madness his father had been talking about ever since _he_ had been forced to quit missions and instead care to the gardens that coated the fertile lands of the Uchiha. Ryota could have, _should_ have followed after his father the very moment he’d gotten his injury. But instead he’d tentatively walked to the Worker’s Board—of _course_ he didn’t want to follow after his father, that man was _miserable_ —and upon noticing the lovely advertisement with _her_ signature, Ryota couldn’t help himself.

So there he was, barely able to stand and praying that when Miho said she’d worked a deal with Madara, that it was the absolute truth and he wouldn’t be breaking into the training fields that he’d pretty much grown up in.

Not that he didn’t trust her—he did, but it was more like…she was a whole lot flightier than he had once thought. Flying around the school it was much as if she were a child herself—always smiling, laughing, and sometimes even kissing the crowns of the kids that crowded around her during the break times. It was little bit of an impossibility to see such a close, warm person in the life he had lived up until that point.

Sure, the Uchiha clan was his family but outside of closed doors there was such a lack of warmth that it had always given him a dizzying sense of uncertainty. Did his father really love him like he said so often as Ryota helped him plant tomato seeds? It often made the Uchiha clan feel disingenuous if he thought about it, even knowing that wasn’t the case.

He’d seen fights break out, after all, so fierce and moving that it would have been impossible to think that all the Uchiha were unable to be like…apparently how Miho was. She made him thoughtful like that; she made him think more about the world and _relationships_ between things.

After all, Miho had never seemed to be anything but herself and she was the first person he’d ever met who acted in such a way.

Yumi Hikita was the second person who he had ever seen act in such a way.

**What Is Sensible**

Izuna didn’t know what he was doing; he was pretty bored.

 _A self-issued mission right after a mission_ , Izuna thought before snorting at the thought of what he was doing being an actual mission. It wasn’t, it hardly even surpassed on being on the level of a creeper and only got the pass after the fact that he and Miho were _friends_. At least, that’s how he thought of her.

So, sure, he was checking up on a friend by crouching on a tree, peering in through the open windows at the woman who so lovingly taught her craft to a group of kids who seemed to be varying degrees of _in love_ with her. Most of them were girls who looked up at her with adoring eyes but the boys paid just as much attention to learning an instrument that undoubtedly would have been “too girlish” otherwise. So basically just regular Miho-Effect at play.

Rather boring but at least entertaining enough when his bumbling cousin was brought into the mix.

Ryota, poor boy, had been discharged honorably from the Uchiha shinobi forces like time repeating itself. Izuna had been young when he’d first witnessed Ryota’s father going through the same fate. His mother was unlucky in the way that she wasn’t left with a life altering wound. Which was a shame; aside from being sometimes annoying, Ryota had shown actual promise before he was subsequently attacked and injured to the point that it was a _miracle_ the boy could still stand.

Still, an entertainment to watch indeed by way of how the kid watched Miho like she was the sun; as if he had gone blind to everything else. Now, _that_ , that there was a nice thought, just as good as any of those damn _haiku_ that Madara taunted him with. Izuna should become a poet if he kept on pulling thoughts like _that_ out of his ass. He could do much better than his brother, surely.

Izuna sighed.

Who was he kidding?

The boredom was simply killing his brain cells.

Miho looked hot though, so that was nice.

At that thought, Izuna fell away from the tree, slipping out from the crook he’d been resting on. Just before he landed on the ground ass first, Izuna gave a slight chuckle as he flipped himself into the air and landed on his feet instead, graceful. Like a cat.

Ugh.

Really, he needed to stop with all of these metaphors and similes. They were going to be the death of him.

Quickly he traveled the fifteen minutes—shortened to three, he was always rather impatient with his time—to get to his home, stepping first into his brother’s room as he looked at Madara quitting at papers on his desk.

“You’re getting old,” Izuna commented, coming to sit beside his brother with his feet slapping against each other, cupping them in his hands before leaning forward. His balls hurt a bit at stretching but that only served to remind him how stiff sleeping on branches could make his body if he wasn’t careful.

“I’m not even thirty,” Madara responded with a sour face, “I’m not old until I’m thirty.”

Izuna laughed at that, smiling broadly before he ruthlessly went on, “Whatever, I’ll always be here to rub my youth in your face anyway.”

“This is why you won’t ever be anything but _little_ ,” Madara said, tone simple but the effect simply _scathing_.

Izuna felt his nose crinkle on reflex before shaking his head, amazed. But before he could respond with something equally biting, Madara interjected by placing his papers down and turning to look at him. Serious business. Again. Izuna couldn’t help but sigh, placing his hand in his chin before assembling his legs in a manner far more comfortable for his balls.

“What did you come here for?” Madara asked, his eyes as piercing as ever.

“I was just at Miho’s school but it got boring when no one got hurt. Well, aside from already existing injuries like with Ryota-kun. But he didn’t trip so _yawn_ ,” Izuna said with a snicker to himself.

Madara rolled his eyes, “How very immature of you.”

“I’m only being honest,” Izuna maintained with a passive expression, “and after an entire hour of watching him stare at Miho-chan it all got a little bit annoying. I wanted _something_ to happen.”

“Are you being _jealous_?” Madara asked, tone light before he gave a deep laugh, eyes lighting up as Izuna felt his own face heat up.

“No way! I’m already over her,” Izuna declared boldly, right before he realized that what he said would mean he even had the remote idea that he _liked_ Miho. Which was preposterous; he’d already been through it all in his head. He didn’t like her—at least not in that way.

Madara raised a brow, like Izuna knew he would, then he chuckled before asking in a more serious manner, “Do you think she makes for a good teacher?”

“Yeah,” he responded with, a bit too moody with his tone, “all the kids and staff love her. What else can you expect when she’s been perfect her entire life?”

“She used to have rocks thrown at her,” Madara noted to himself softly, looking thoughtful before he shook his head, “She has come a long way.”

Izuna nodded glumly, standing up to head out of his brother’s room. Just another reminder that although Izuna had known her first, he didn’t know her _better_.

He wondered who did.

**What Is Sensible**

Miho lost track of time as soon as everyone left and she was the only one in the building by the time the sun began to set. Much like the usual sort of habits she had come to uphold. After all, if she went back to her bedroom, there was only heaps of scrolls attempting to teach her what she had long since given up on.

She shuddered just thinking about it; she never was very good at chakra control and it wasn’t as if fuinjutsu was heavy in that fact. Being placed more in one’s ability to focus, Miho had never had problems with it like her sister had but unlike her sister, she had problems in even more blaring problems.

Her chakra control was terrible. Her ability to even _feel_ her chakra was _beyond_ what was considered terrible.

But what Madara had said earlier still rung in her ears, almost as if he _believed_ she could do it. That she could rise against the very fact that she failed so utterly at making her chains…

Miho shook her head; she wanted to focus on the fact that she needed to keep track of her finances more than her inability to—to _ninja_.

She sighed.

She would have really rather not thought about _Madara_ of all people.

Except, as she looked up on a whim, Miho felt her stomach drop upon seeing the sight of him entering into her school silently. The bells on the doors failed to make even a peep as if he were used to silencing them, cupping them delicately in his hands.

She blinked, before bring her hands up to rub at her eyes. When bits of her makeup came away, Miho could only continue to frown.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, tilting her head to the side in her pure confusion at seeing Madara stalk his way closer to her.

“You’ve stayed later than expected and I told you yesterday that I would like to meet with you over dinner.”

“Oh,” Miho sighed out, looking anywhere but him as she went on nodding mindlessly.

His hand went out to still her movement, his fingers brushing against her chin.

She pulled back when her skin began to burn in a way she found too pleasant to be real. Swallowing thickly, she met his gaze with as much bravery as she could muster, “What did you want to talk about?”

“Your studies. Kobaku mentioned that you haven’t been growing as much as you should be.”

Ugh. Exactly what she wanted to avoid talking about.

Still, Miho couldn’t help but sigh dejectedly, slumping in a way that was entirely unlike her before she caught her hands reaching out to touch his. Glaring at them she kept her eyes trained on the rough padding of her fingertips instead.

“I have never been an excellent person at learning. I spent more than a good year focusing on things my sister mastered within _months_. I’m…I’m sorry to disappoint you. I don’t have it within me…”

Much to her surprise, as she winced against his reaction, Madara scoffed.

Then, he asked her a question, “What is it that you like about music?”

“Music?” she echoed, confused but as he remained silent, she relented and gave one of her soft answers, “It makes me happy. It makes other people happy too.”

He said nothing, only nodding before his eyes went back to her own.

God, he didn’t even need his killing intent. It was his eyes alone that could get her to confess everything like she was a loose lipped puppet.

“It makes people happy with me, okay?” Miho relented, forcing her arms to cross over her stomach as she looked away from him, “It lets me escape from being a…a failure to my father.”

“A failure. Why were you a failure?”

“I couldn’t do it,” Miho sighed out, fingers tightening their hold on her robes, “I couldn’t even hold a shuriken without hurting myself. My skin was too sensitive…before Saiken-san. I learned to get used to it but it _burned_ , in a really bad way each time I was touched. It made me…afraid of everything, afraid to be touched. Even playing the koto wasn’t without it’s detriments. My fingers bled for the first year almost to the point that I thought it was endless.”

“Saiken?” he asked but before she could give him answer about who that was, he was already asking something else, “Did you ever figure out why this is?” he asked, looking thoughtful as if he were also trying to figure it out.

“My parents took me to doctors but they didn’t have any clue…although after you went through my memories, I thought that perhaps it was _because_ my soul is from another place. Like, maybe I have too much of spiritual chakra and not enough physical…or something like that,” Miho mumbled, trying not to look as dumb as she felt.

Madara shook his head and she felt an abrupt spike in her anxiety, finding herself looking back down and to the papers that crowded along her desk.

“What is it that you like about art?” he asked, shifting the conversation away as she attempted to calm herself down.

“Well, I think, maybe…it’s resilience,” she answered softly, both confused and ready for the assault of questions to end.

“Explain.”

“Uh,” Miho sighed, attempting to meet his gaze as she earnestly tried her best to answer his inquiries, “if there is one thing that I know, it’s that during times of war, when everything seems painful and when the world seems like an impossible place to live in…it is during those times that the most beautiful pieces of expression are created. Poetry, stories, _music_ —all of it is from the human soul, which, despite what most might think, does not break in the face of adversity and instead will be inspired to create an even bigger movement. It is the beauty and strength of humanity, Madara-san, and why I dearly want to…protect it.”

“Hn,” he intoned, rising up from his place on the floor before walking to the door, like he would leave just as suddenly as he had come. Then, he turned to look at her emphatically, “Are you coming?”

Finances forgotten, Miho rushed to get up, very nearly knocking over the ink as she rushed to follow after him. He was almost out of sight by the time she managed to lock up her school, hastening to keep up with his longer strides.

Almost as if he knew her struggle, Madara slowed down—only just a bit.

**What Is Sensible**

If Mito could do it she would cut Kaishi out of her life completely and entirely.

He was a _disease_ —there was no other apt way to describe him. Anything else was too weak when it came to Kaishi. Mostly because, right before Mito’s eyes, he was _spreading his germs everywhere_. It started off innocently as the impressionable Hashirama took notice of all the curse words Kaishi spouted off the top of his lungs.

The, slowly but surely, Hashirama—Ugh, _Hashirama_ —began to curse like a child being captivated by an older brother, wanting to impress him as if he were someone worth looking up to! Mito quietly seethed each time she heard those telltale vulgar words.

Of course _she_ used them; she’d grown up spitting back with the best of them!

But Hashirama was different, he didn’t _use_ such words because Tobirama despised them.

Tch. Just more fuel for the fire of hatred she had come to harbor for the—admittedly—good looking male that had pretty much disrespected her from the beginning.

Unfortunately for her, however, she _needed_ the Hatake clan. Less so, she also needed Kaishi. Because who else would help her make amends for her senseless actions.

She hadn’t _thought_ they’d find out but apparently she couldn’t have nice things in her life.

How could she? The Nara didn’t listen to rumor, they were more interested in their plant studies to bother with that sort of stuff, right? Why did it have to be that the one rumor they actually _listened_ to, turned out to be true? Fate. Destiny. All of it was a load of shit but it seemed it was still against her.

“Why should it matter that she’s engaged?” Mito asked quietly, expression sour as she sat outside, leaning back against the wall as she kept hearing Hashirama’s harsh tongue ring out in her ears. But of course she knew _why_. It was the _Uchiha_. Who wanted to cross the Uchiha?

They must have thought she was insane when she offered her sister but she honestly hadn’t thought it was a big deal! But she supposed that was just another reason for Hashirama to rub in her face that she wasn’t as knowledgeable about politics than she should be if she wanted to work something like _that_ out.

Still, it didn’t change the fact that she was worried.

For an idiot, they were all somehow trusting in Miho’s actions—all while having no idea what the outcome would be! Just like _gambling_.

Mito shivered just thinking about the word; it had become a word akin to how she felt about the Uchiha.

Just like Miho, they were all slowly slipping into stupidity. Well, at least they’d stop catching colds.

**What Is Sensible**

“Just try once more,” Kobaku said, attempting to be patient even as Miho clearly saw the stress etched deeply into his face.

Nibbling on her lower lip, she _tried_. Just like all of the other times, she took the leaf and _tried_ , forcing the sheer amount of concentration of chakra _out._ But like all of the other times before, the leaf would stick for mere a second before promptly falling off on a breeze.

Breathless, Miho very nearly glared at the leaf as she stared at her hands as if they’d betrayed her. They pretty much had.

She slumped forward, absolutely _exhausted_. With as much energy as she could manage, Miho delicately tried to siphon off a bit of her chakra once more but only found it fruitless as instead she felt more chakra that was distinctly _not her own_. Saiken.

Not wanting to disturb him, she pulled back and instead looked to Kobaku, “I’m very sorry.”

She was wasting too much of his time; she could see in his own eyes how impatient he was getting despite the forced calm demeanor he showed.

“Perhaps trying tomorrow after you rest, things will go better,” Kobaku said, his voice betraying him in the way that he said it too fast and too soon. They’d only been at it for an hour, after all, and he was scheduled to be with her until three.

Still, Miho nodded glumly, preparing herself to will her dead body up to stand.

Yet before she could, the door slid open like a soft whisper, just before Madara stepped in. Standing tall at his full height, Miho had to crane her head up to get a proper view of him. Similarly, she noted how Kobaku paled upon seeing his clan head.

“Hello, Madara-san,” she said softly, trying to welcome him despite how nothing made sense to her in that moment. Everything was far too dizzying to look at and if it were for the steadying color of black, Miho thought she might have passed out.

“I’ve decided that I’ll be taking on Miho’s lessons myself, Kobaku,” he said simply, voice so iron tight that it sounded impossible to argue with. Miho blinked in surprise at his use of her actual name and correspondingly at the fact that he dropped honorifics for a man older than him.

Kobaku seemed not to want to argue as he rose up out of his seat and gave a quick bow before heading quickly out of the room.

Miho blinked again, this time attempting to let things settle in as she gave an amazed look at Madara, “Sensei?”

Madara made a barely noticeable face before sighing as he replaced Kobaku easily, sitting across from her at the table, “Don’t bother. I’m tired.”

Pursing her lips but unable to nod with how light her head felt, Miho instead attempted a smile, “Ok…”

It was so terribly awkward after that.

**What Is Sensible**

Gross.

“Stop scowling, Mito-chan,” Hashirama said as they walked besides each other up the steps and into her family home.

“Why did I never realize that he’s literally _hours_ away from Uzushio? It’s disgusting,” she grumbled, lip curling up at the irrefutable evidence that the Hatake home was on the coastline, just a little bit away from her beloved home.

She did not want any of his claws near _her_ clan—which was why he wasn’t _there_. Sure, he had wanted to come, but one scathing looking his direction shut him up right before Hashirama could even say the words that would lead her to traveling with the trash.

“I don’t really know why you don’t like Kaishi, but, um, maybe just be a little less angry in front of your father? He doesn’t listen to me like he listens to you.”

But Mito didn’t care as she barged into her father’s room and rested her hand on her hip before fiercely yelling out, “Tou-san! I need your help on fixing something I did wrong!”

“What is it!?” he yelled back, looking up from papers as he glared at his daughter’s brash entry.

“I might have upset an entire clan and now I’m having trouble getting them to join, and we need them to get the Akimichi clan but things aren’t going well on that front cause I was stupid and thought that offering Miho up for marriage would be a good idea! It wasn’t! And now Hashirama is cursing like a brat and Kaishi is—Kaishi is,” okay, she needed to stop. There was a fine difference on what was _venting_ and what was _explaining_.

“Kaishi is what?” her father asked, eyes wide for reasons Hashirama probably had no idea about. She could see the dawning horror in his gaze, seeing it about every single time she mentioned the bastard’s name. It might have been because the last time she had, it had been after a night of heavy drinking and crying in her father’s arm.

“Kaishi is still a prick,” was all she could say as she thought back to what they had once been. Looking at Hashirama, so oblivious to everything, she couldn’t help but feel those old feelings pop up and she _hated_ it. She hated it all.

Hashirama gave a low, uncertain chuckle that made her father’s gaze snap to him, “Is there something going on that I don’t know about?”

 _So he has at least a lick of sense in him_ , Mito thought bitterly.

With a sigh, she shook her head, attempting to focus more on what was at hand, “Tou-san, I need you to come with me to visit the Nara clan. Can you go or no?”

Her dad looked at his paperwork before looking at Mito with a grin that suddenly split across his face, “I suppose I could leave Ashina in charge for a few days.”

At that, she felt just a little bit better. Her _father_ was at least there for her. Now, if only she didn’t have to tell him how much she fucked up the politics with the Nara clan.

**What Is Sensible – End**


	17. Eyes Are Windows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4/20 blazee etttttt cause it's will o fyaahhh. I'm dumb. 
> 
> But I still graduated from high school, kind of today but officially yesterday!

**Ｗ** **ｉｌｌ　ｏｆ　Ｆｉｒｅ**

_**Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ** _ _**17** _

_Come and go as you please, but one day stay forever._

_Even when you still leave, right before I know it,_

_Right before I can look up to even see it._

_Still, I'll wait for the day._

**Eyes Are Windows**

Resilience.

It was such a simple word to say and yet it contained a meaning that was different from strength, something someone who didn’t understands things, the way he did, would say. The act of coming back, reshaping oneself to come back stronger and to bend just far enough that one simply didn’t break upon contact, they bounced back. Elastic, and immeasurable in terms of strength, which felt like a word that simply stood for the physical. It did not feel as if it could aptly describe the way it was like to feel _pain_ and knee-bending, blinding _hatred_ before gathering a bit of one's will to still keep trying, to still rise up from wounds and fight without letting emotions consume what little sanity one had left.

It was that word which he felt stood for the soul of something; strength could fail at any moment but being resilient meant it could always rise again. It was not a final word; it was a word that insinuated a continuation, not an ending.

For her to say it—about _art_ , it felt odd.

There was an even odder feeling in his chest but he supposed it only felt weird because he was just beginning to _respect_ her.

He’d never thought he’d see the day where he thought of art, music, and writing as anything more than hobby acts, something silly to do if he had even a shred of free time. But now he couldn’t help but see it, that what she had said had been true; only when the soul had been tested in time of desperation had it ever created something as beautiful as the poetry that lined his bedroom walls. He’d once thought of them as decoration, something that had been passed down to help along with his title after his father had died.

Now he looked at them in new lighting, reading the words, he felt his breath catch the moment he realized that it had been his _father_ who had written the haiku hanging over his laid out futon. He always set up his bed there, being the place that was the good medium of sunlight in the mornings—such that it didn't blind him at the crack of dawn when he relied on sleeping in late to get his rest. The point was, he'd never particularly thought anything of it until that point when he looked at it with new eyes.

Then and there, with the familiar strokes from a man that had taught him most everything in life—at least the important things—hung above the messy blankets Madara had yet to clean up.

_The bravest acts of love,_

_Come at a dangerous price,_

_Where the hatred will feast._

Madara had been able to logically understand it; able to analyze his father's true intentions but before this point, he hadn't been able to _feel_ it. Not in the way that it rung in his head now, spoken in the voice of his father.

His heart ached in a way that was strangely comforting, as he felt his eyes water. Hastily he swiped at his face and very nearly wiped the traces of his tears away on his kimono. But instead, he found himself looking down at the wetness that lingered on his fingertips.

He was never the type to cry so easily; hardly ever cried as a child, and had maintained that even up until the day his father died. He hadn't shed even a tear the moment the news had been brought to him, merely nodded and took it as fact. Just like he had done for the brothers he had lost when growing up. Hadn't it been because he needed to focus on his actions? Feelings only got in the way of things; they ruined and _wrecked_ so much.

Madara knew that better than anything else.

After all, it was emotion that had kept him so fixated on the Senju and it was emotion alone that had led him to protect his brother; that had led him into accepting her offer when it was so obviously—right. It was obviously an offer that had only been thought out in the second she said the words. Yet he had accepted it because of _emotions_.

It would also be the hatred—always working itself into his thoughts—that would ruin everything.

Madara had to stop it; he had to stop the, the _curse_ that had followed his family, that had worked itself into slowly _consuming_ everyone he had ever met and had ever loved. But most importantly, he had to be _resilient_. He had to be that way in order to protect himself, and even more so, he had to be certain Izuna would be safe by the turn of his birthday.

Sakura had to be the key to it; she _had_ to.

Otherwise, there was no reason for him doing anything to prevent what he'd seen in her memories, the very thing that had led him to this reality.

After all, Madara had once questioned if it were right of him to believe her despite having witnessed first hand the things she'd seen in her past life. It had felt strange to see himself there, speaking with his own voice and yet having no idea what any of it had meant for _him_. After all, he had no basis to know why he was speaking such words, why he had been the sole proprietor of a plan that had so obviously failed. He didn't understand—and that fact remained steadfast as he failed to understand it even _now_. It was something he hated to admit, as if he were lowering himself while looked to Sakura understand it all so perfectly.

So yes, he questioned if he could trust her word when she _explained_ what all of it meant. Clearly, she could plan on swaying his thoughts, all by saying things that were untrue just for the sake of her goals. It was the reality in which he lived in, wasn't it? A world where one looked out for their own ideals and fought to succeed against the mass. But then, it wasn't until he asked the seemingly random set of questions that he began to suss out the key component to her character, to his understanding of who she was and what she actually stood for.

Based upon her answers, given so readily, the only thing he could liken her to would be a pond, a rather shallow one. Once you stepped foot into it, touching the cool water as it easily made room, there wasn't much else to discover. Simply put, you could see through the water and know what existed beneath the liquid that lapped so gently against your skin. She was a lot like a pond, her heart always being expressed on the outermost parts of herself. She was far too honest, and unlike him, she lacked the ability to hide, the ability to lie in the way that he had grown up doing as if it were a genetic trait. An open book, wearing her heart on her sleeve. A pool of truth, with her eyes wide open.

In short, if he wanted to get his answers, he wouldn't have to go through the drastic measures like he had once thought. Instead, so odd and so simple, he would just have to disturb the calm, still water and wait for the currents to reveal something in its wake. It would be then that he would receive his answer.

**Eyes Are Windows**

Ryota smiled a smile just like any other, genuine and honest, as he watched the boy. He couldn't help himself from noting the way the kid swung with a better aim than the others, and looked different down to the very clothes on his back. After all, Hirohito was a kid so poor that he didn't even have a last name. Apparently, from what Miho had said earlier, his mother had traded their only sack of rice to get him into the school, praying that her good name would lead them to good fortune. Which sounded like bad business on Miho's part—how was she planning to run the school if not with the goal of making money from it? Although, he could hardly criticize her for it. It was just the way she was, he supposed, being unable to say no and turn down a family giving the last of what they owned.

Well, to anyone else it would have been a cheat, taking advantage of the kind heart of a woman set on the path of helping children. After all, Hirohito got fed for free and got an education that was already proving to bear fruit. Ryota himself had never expected it but already he could see the results in the villagers shift in attitude. They looked to Miho as an example, as a woman was a revolutionary idea of wind spread education. It also seemed to make the children more noticeable, watched as they were tested for the legitimacy of her methods.

Ryota couldn't be prouder of the kids he was in charge of as they all continued to face his challenged head on. He could only contribute this to the type of girls and boys he'd found in his care. Not only were they hardened by the streets, even the ones that had led better lives were different from the shinobi born that he had grown used to. Instead of _knowing_ they were good enough or soon would be thanks to an entire family tree that had led to their birth and childhood, these kids only knew how to work hard and were not satisfied with themselves until they got the job done right.

Even Hirohito, the sole kid that seemed unable to grasp anything else but fighting, was excelling in ways that no one ever expected. The only problem seemed to be represented in his inability to get along with others, always glaring at the other kids fiercely and with little love or fondness. He barely even seemed to listen to Ryota and it was this that had made him so concerned.

He couldn't very well slack on his kid's education, right?

Right.

And so, despite feeling much like a child himself, Ryota ended up taking Hirohito aside at the end of the school day, smiling as he took the boy to the best dango place in the village. Luckily it was only a few meters away from the school, a fact that Ryota couldn't help but be grateful for as he get a watchful gaze on the school's entryway. Hirohito's mother was usually late, after all, and despite how silent the wait for her usually went, Ryota refused to let this end so easily.

Awkwardly, Ryota determinedly reached out to hand the shorty his stick of dango before biting into his own. Hirohito accepted it with hesitant fingers but, with little wait after that, his mouth hungrily took in the first ball, biting down harder than necessary. He pulled the stick away from him then, glaring down at it like it had personally assaulted him.

At the sight of his student's antics, Ryota couldn't help but shed a laugh, barely able to restrain its full force into a soft chuckle. Still, Hirohito quickly shifted that glare over to Ryota, narrowing his eyes darkly.

“'As so 'unny?” Hirohito asked, accent so prevalent in his words that Ryota could only look down at his student with thoughtful eyes.

“Did you used to live elsewhere, Hirohito-kun?”

The kid shrugged, eyes tight as he looked back down to his dango.

At the not too subtle denial to answer, Ryota didn't press any further and instead began to steer Hirohito's body towards the school as he took a bite off of his own stick.

“You know, I was the best in my age group,” the Uchiha softly reminisced as soon as they sat themselves outside of the school doors, leaving Miho inside to do as she usually did and mess with numbers and cleaning up the facility with her ever so caring hands.

“Ya 'ere?” Hirohito asked, looking up to him with doubtful eyes.

Ryota smiled at that, “I wasn't always so crippled, you know. I was one of the fastest shinobi in all of my family and only the strongest could outmatch me when I was in top form.”

'”at 'appened?” the boy's eyes went down to gaze at the poor state of Ryota's leg, wincing as if he could imagine the pain that the wound brought. It had been a full weak since the Uchiha had been allowed to leave the wound without bandages, and thus he wasn't very surprised with Hirohito's behavior. It looked as it still felt, angry and twisted, his skin healing with clear scars evident. But it no longer held the sting that it had once; no longer did it hurt him in that soul crushing manner that told him all hope was lost and that he was useless.

Instead, he looked to it as a blessing and oddly enough, felt that deeply with every step he took. All because of his new job, a calling he would have never expected to take up. After all, with the Uchiha, they would have never let a cripple handle children, not something so precious to the family line. So instead he found his work elsewhere and without shame.

He felt happy, for perhaps the first time in his life, more so than any other times when he had hit the usual good marks for shinobi. Instead, Ryota found it far more self-fulfilling than his last line or work where he'd been forced to do many things he would have normally never done.

So yes, instead of hiding his wound as his greatest shame, the mistake of being so careless on the battlefield, Ryota looked at is as a message. A message that reminded him every day that he lived for a reason, and that he mustn't waste his life moping around with impossible thoughts and dreams. Either way, he much preferred talking with a boy much too shy to speak up but much too angry to ask for help.

“I made the best mistake of my life,” Ryota finally said with a grin before looking to Hirohito, “and it's led me to be a teacher, specifically _your_ teacher.”

“Ya,” Hirohito mumbled out, almost bitterly as he looked down to his toes, “'cause 'am tooken all za rice. Kaa-chan gon 'ungry fur me.”

It was then that Ryota felt he got a little closer to the truth behind Hirohito's disdainful gaze. He was just a boy, and a boy who had witnessed his mother give up everything for her son. Ryota would never understand—he grew up in the Uchiha clan, after all, one of the most well off clans out there. He would never experience hunger and the devastation of poverty...but he could understand one thing; death.

He'd watched many of his family members die over the years, whether from disease or from missions, in the end he had seen first hand the deaths of many of the people he had come to love so desperately. He had seen them slip away...and for Hirohito to witness it at such a young age, and for it to be his mother...

The gods were certainly cruel.

Ryota sighed and handed off the rest of his stick to the kid with a sharp grimace, “This isn't pity or anything, so give this to your mother and tomorrow...” he trailed off before forcing a grin, hand reaching out to ruffle the kid's rugged black hair, “It'd be nice if we could all have dinner together.”

Hirohito's smile turned vibrant as he looked to Ryota, as if he were this shining beacon of light. The Uchiha shifted his gaze away just in time to see the familiar face of Hirohito's mother come into view. She smiled at him with the eyes of a woman who had seen many things and knew just as much.

With pale skin and light blue eyes, the woman wasn't much of a woman at all. As Ryota understood it, she was a young mother and one that had been forcibly made one when she was of a young age. Miho hadn't said anything specific other than that but by the way her dark eyes had tightened, the new teacher had felt a great deal of compassion for the woman.

It was then that the doors to the school opened up, a rushed Miho making her way out into the afternoon lighting as she smoothed out her kimono and hair, meeting Ryota's gaze first before letting it migrate to the woman's.

“Izumi-chan!” Miho greeted her, coming forward with a bright smile as she easily took the woman's hands in her own, “I caught you today and so you really must come in and have some tea with me. Some snacks too, just leftovers from the children's lunch, really.”

Izumi looked down to her feet, barely even tall enough to match his chest, she looked absolutely tiny in that moment, far too slim to be comfortable to see, and far too unsure of herself to let himself just stand by. Ryota brought on his brightest smile, the very one that had once led a girl confessing to him behind a tree at sunset. Not as if he wanted Izumi to confess to him or something stupid but if females liked it...

It seemed not to phase her as she looked to him with a confused gaze.

He cleared his throat, “Um, I was just gonna go grab some more dango sticks too and I think Miho and I would really love the company.” At that he winked at Hirohito who seemed to take the cue.

Instantly he did what all young children did best; whine.

“'Lease Kaa-chan?” Hirohito asked, hands going out to grasp at Izumi's poor excuse for clothing as he gazed up at her with widened eyes.

“I-If it's all right with the two of you,” Izumi whispered then, hand going down to caress Hirohito's hair for what looked like comfort.

Ryota couldn't help but note the way she talked, her voice as clear as the wind and her words spoken concisely and cleanly. He had to raise a brow at that and wondered where her son had picked up on such an awful accent. But he didn't allow himself to pester, instead stepping out of the way and bowing as quickly as he could before he excused himself to pick up a few more sticks of dango.

Just before he left, however, he didn't miss look in Miho's eyes, nor the words she mouthed towards him as he ran off with as much speed as he could muster.

His world continued to glow as he made his way towards the shop, unable to stop himself from repeating her soft thank you in his head.

**Eyes Are Windows**

Miho cringed when she felt the chakra in her palms slide away, the leaf gently floating back to the dirt that she had been forced to sit on. She couldn’t help but delicately sniff at the horrid state her kimono was getting to be, feeling dust creep into all of the hard-pressed folds, sticking to the insides with the ill-determination that she’d only witness in dirt. But then, she couldn’t exactly complain; not with Madara staring at her so intently.

“What made you lose concentration?” He asked softly, tone somehow hurting more that he still wasn’t without his patience. They’d been there for the good half of the day with only a few interruptions when he’d gone to take care of other matters.

“Um,” Miho hummed out, sliding her gaze away when she realized that it would not have been a good idea to say that it had been _him_ that made her lose her focus. It was just that, his clothes were practically hanging off of him like he’d just simply thrown in on, with no thought to the ties and adjustments that usually went into putting on kimono. It was practically shouting out for her to take in the sights of his collarbones and the muscle tone of his chest. But she knew shouldn’t and that she was edging on being foolishly lecherous about a man she had once feared. Funny how things worked out that way.

“You told me earlier that you were best at meditation, that in your clan, it was the backbone of fuinjutsu,” he murmured, lifting a brow, “Had you been lying to me, Sakura?”

Oh how she hated that cursed name by then. It always made her so flustered and just a good enough bad mixture of shame, embarrassment, and apologetic.

Still, forcing past the uncomfortable feeling that settled in, Miho looked him straight in the eye and gave her brash explanation, spurred on by the brewing feelings inside her chest, “I am the best, I mean, at least in my year I was the best!” Miho very nearly shouted, cheeks filling with heat before she found herself looking away with a delicate sniff, “Also, I didn’t lie, it’s just that...it’s just that I find it hard to concentrate around _you_.”

With that out, Miho found herself sitting up straighter, even more so surprised with the _tone_ she had said it in and less in _what_ she had to say. After all, she had said it just like she had heard her sister say such things; not like herself at all.

She really hadn’t expected for the words to come out at all, really, but now that they were, she couldn’t help but feel pleased with her degree of honesty, even if she found it scathing.

Madara looked at her then, unimpressed as his brow back down from his inquiring expression, “Sakura.”

It was all he said to her, both his voice and face unreadable before he stood up, dusting off a spray of grass and dirt from his clothes. She frowned at the obvious grass stains but said nothing when he turned on his foot and disappeared before her eyes.

“Don’t call me Sakura,” she mumbled out bitterly, wanting not to cry but feeling exactly as she had _years_ ago when she was a child still trying to find her way inside the world of her family.

Instead, Miho sighed and picked up the leaf once more and stared at it with only questions on her tongue and disappointment in her gaze. She glared at it then, with a huff of air leaving her body just before she found herself turning to look around the secluded area Madara had practically dragged her off to at the crack of dawn. She had been unable to put on her lipstick, a fact that left her feeling naked and unsure.

She had no idea how to get back, no idea how to navigate through the trees and safely get home. It meant she couldn't run away from her tasks as a student, even when she simply wanted to go back to the calming setting of her school. Which was doing surprisingly well, both financially and in effectiveness.

But she shouldn't try to think of it, not when she should be focusing on a cursed leaf that refused to stick to her fingers.

“Okay,” Miho breathed out, taking the leaf into her palms and making a face that was neither a smile nor a frown. More fed up than anything else, she was too exhausted to be angry at herself anymore. Instead, she wanted to go back to what she was actually good at. Music, numbers, and now, teaching.

She was not a very good student, however, which only enhanced the irony that she could clearly see taking place. It was also not lost on her that the likelihood of her succeeding in a place that she had failed many years ago was simply beyond her. Especially when he wanted to take her max of thirty seconds to a full minute.

So, really, she should have been preparing herself for becoming just another disappointment in the eyes of yet another person. Miho felt both apologetic and terribly upset that it had to be Madara, of all people. After all, would that put her in danger? Wouldn't he be upset about the wasted time, all of the efforts he had put into her? She wondered if this was some sort of deal breaker, if she could not become a weapon like he obviously wanted of her.

Feeling glum about the prospect of her thoughts, Miho found herself exhaling a heavy sigh before leaning back into the dirt, hands going outstretched on either side of her body. Almost with a mind of their own, they grasped at clumps of dirt and grass, making her clean hands turn dark. It was only then that she realized that her beloved hair was getting just as dirty.

“Oh, whatever,” Miho bit out bitterly before finding herself rubbing her head into the ground as if she hadn't spent her entire life avoiding such things. It wasn't like they were the long strands that she had spent countless years grooming to perfection. After all, those had all been lost to a flame and instead she simply had hair that struggled to even reach her shoulders.

It was infuriatingly short, and didn't grow as fast as she had wanted it to. Instead, she continued to miss the times she would spend brushing out all of the knots, and missed the breezy way styling went. She'd long since grown accustomed to maintaining her locks after all and now they were distinctly absent.

Still, it wasn't as bad as being completely _bald_ , she supposed, and perhaps it would be a learning experience for her. After all, she relied too much on her looks to aid her, the only thing she had grown confidence in over the years of seeing how beautiful Mito had become. She didn't know if it was sad or not knowing that the only way for her to verify something was to check with her sister and it wasn't until then, laying in the dirt, that she realized what that meant.

She lacked _confidence_.

Wait a minute.

Brows furrowing, Miho quickly sat up and reached for the leaf that had fallen to the side of her. She could barely breathe as she settled it on her fingertips, biting her lower lip gently, closing her eyes to the world. She did as she usually did when locating her chakra, finding it almost instantaneously as she tried to bring it up and use it. What was brought instead was the harsh reality of a headache pressing on and spreading throughout her skull to create a biting and sorely distracting pain.

“No, no,” Miho whispered, trying to shake her head clear of it as her hands began to shake. What should she do? What _could_ she do? Almost straightaway, she had her answer.

“ _Believe_ ,” she grounded out harshly and yet as soft as the hiss of a snake, “ _Believe in yourself for once in your life._ ”

And she did, deciding in that moment that she was _done_. She was absolutely fed up with failing and she refused to be that little six year old girl who couldn't even stomach the sight of blood. She had a _beast_ , after all, _inside_ of her with a seal _she_ had made and had activated. She'd done that herself, with no one around.

So she could do this, she could make the leaf stick.

And she did.

**Eyes Are Windows**

Right, so good things _can_ happen out of fuckups. Good to know, uh, for future reference.

“You’re dad is a lot better at politics than I thought,” Hashirama whispered in her ear as they passed underneath a large branch, close enough to the docks that she could smell the breeze through the rest of the forest that spanned out in front of them. She scuttled a bit off to the side, feeling her cheeks heat up at the feeling of his breath lingering against her earlobe.

Absentmindedly she brought up her hand to scratch at it before looking up and very nearly bumping into the man her father would have to spend a bit of time with before the Nara even _thought_ about giving the Uzumaki the time of day. The actual heir, with the same unruly hair in a hair tie, stopped before her and she had to use all of her concentration not to pummel right through him.

He turned to look at her, his dark eyes wide with curiosity, expression very nearly hidden by the dark atmosphere of the oppressing forest surroundings. “Are we nearly to the docks?” he asked with a lilt to his voice that she hadn’t expected. After all, Nara were supposed to be lazy and impossible to get active. But Shigeki seemed very nearly set on exploring every inch of a place she could only assume he hadn’t been to.

Most hadn’t--not when there was practically nothing to do aside from visit the Uzumaki or _try_ and attempt to visit the north. Which no one was going to actually _do_ , because as she knew better than most, it was best to leave the samurai alone in their cold dreary iron-forged town.

“We’re nearly there,” Hashirama said besides her, answering the question directed at her. Mito had to roll her eyes at that. He really never ceased his desire to monopolize attention in the room, so to speak. Another one of his many annoying parts to himself, she supposed.

“It’s about a fifteen minutes away now,” Mito explained, meeting the Nara’s gaze with as nice a smile as she could muster given the circumstances, “You can smell the ocean breeze now. It’s very salty.”

“I’ve never been near an ocean, really,” Shigeki admitted, looking young despite being only a year older than her. He swept at the hair that spilled out of his carefully tied up hair, sweat coating his face much in the way it coated her own. That was the thing about the forest; it rained a shit ton and had condensation that never ceased to plaster itself to her skin.

Although, when she always got to the other side, there was no beating the feeling that followed. Something about stepping out of a place so dreary, wet, and cold...and then coming to the beach. It never failed to take her breath away.

“It’s not really an ocean yet,” Mito murmured, smiling as she thought of seeing the golden rays of sunshine once more, “It’s the sea, sure, but the ocean goes out farther than even our island. No one has ever really dared to go out much longer than a year on ocean travel.”

“It must be nice,” Shigeki noted, continuing his careful tread through the damp growth, “to be out there with no concerns.”

Mito had to laugh at that notion, shaking her head as she thought back to the seafarers she had come to rely on for fresh fish and laughter. They would have been appalled to hear the heir’s words about what his thoughts were concerning life on a boat. Cause lacking concerns was not typically how things went when a typhoon could pop up anytime and kill them all.

Either way, Mito thought Miho would have thought of Shigeki as cute, in the way that he looked at things like a child in wonderment.

“Wait until you see the sunset,” Mito murmured, falling into step besides the heir, completely ignoring Hashirama, who struggled to fit in the narrow pathway. He bumped into her shoulder mercilessly, even as she gave him sharp glances each time he bothered to look over at her.

“It is really pretty,” Hashirama said, almost absentmindedly as he glared at the way Mito made little room for him to be beside her. In the end, his hand slid down to catch her wrist, practically dragging her to stand at his side as he gave a nonchalant smile at Shigeki. Mito scowled deeply. Unfortunately, she could not say for a fact that she hated the way his fingers dipped low to wrap around her own.

However, it was infuriatingly embarrassing to have the prestigious heir look at them as if they were some sort of strange entity. She couldn't exactly blame him if he actually thought so.

“So you two will be marrying soon?” Shigeki asked, his eyes smiling as if he'd found something exceedingly interesting.

“Yes,” Hashirama said cheerfully, causing Kazunari to look back at his daughter with raised brows.

“No,” she denied simply, refusing to meet her father's eyes and work herself up over something stupid, “we are not. Why?”

“Oh, I was just wondering how the line of heirs works in the Uzumaki clan. The two of you act very close so I only assumed and then...it would have been very interesting to know who the clan heir would be. Would it be your sister? Perhaps not, now that she is with the Uchiha,” Shigeki rambled on, before long looking away from her as if he were much more intrigued with his thoughts and much less with her responses.

“The Uzumaki clan relies on power, and the leader is never decided based on bloodline,” Kazunari explained, slowing down his quick procession to get within better hearing range, “so it would be unnecessary for my daughters to become the clan head if they didn't want to, or were not strong enough to achieve such a rank.”

“So is that another way of saying you're the strongest man in the Uzumaki forces?” Shigeki asked, meeting her father's eyes with eyes burning with curiosity. Very different from what she thought a Nara would be like.

Kazunari laughed loudly, his voice booming against her eardrums, “Of course! Who else could remain a clan head for as long as I have? Twenty-five years!”

Miho rolled her eyes at what would assuredly become just another bragging period for her father's ego.

“That is quite impressive,” Shigeki murmured quietly, “I hope that my role last just as long.

“Always hope for longer then! Reach for the skies, my boy!” Kazunari brashly slapped the skinny looking man in the back before guffawing once more. “But just know that I have the best one.”

Then, as they all stepped out from the forested area and to the small secluded docking station, Mito's eyes rested on the skyline and she couldn't help but smile.

It truly was the best sky to see.

Distantly she heard Shigeki's soft intake of air before the sound of an even softer sigh. So far, so good.

**Eyes Are Windows – End**

 


	18. Cruel World

**Ｗ** **ｉｌｌ　ｏｆ　Ｆｉｒｅ**

_**Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ** _ _**18** _

_I knew love was never meant for me;_

_So there was never been a reason for a fast-paced heart;_

_But, drip, drip,_

_See, that? Even the raining sky mocks the desolate me,_

_As I watch the shared hearts from afar._

**Cruel World**

Ryota sighed out, feeling his nerves settle as he looked over the table and towards Izumi, who fumbled with her freshly cleaned hair and looked at him with uncertain eyes. Greedily, her son Hirohito scrambled to eat all of the sweets in sight as his fingers went in to attack the plate Miho had set out with her smooth, delicate fingers. His heart, in short, could not take it. 

“Did you like your bath?” Miho asked, taking her seat next to him as she stared over at Izumi, who shifted her gaze over to look at the redhead with alabaster skin. 

Izumi nodded before bowing her head down, “Thank you for accepting me into your home.”

“Well, it should be the other way around,” Ryota murmured out despite the way his heart pounded in his chest. It had been that way for what felt like an eternity but had only been for most of the month. It had taken a terribly long time to get the eighteen year old to come over with her son, and especially for her to accept work in the Uchiha household. “You’re helping with my father in the garden, after all. He says that he almost can’t believe you weren’t a gardener before! All the plants thrive beneath your fingertips.”

Her eyes tightened at what he intended to be a compliment and he found his facade of a cheerful smile crumbing. He only wanted to make her smile but instead all he got was distrustful gazes and pursed, uncertain frowns. It never failed to make him realize that the entire time throughout the weeks, as he had tried time after time to make her comfortable and to accept him as a friend, she only got that much more distant. Probably because he was a man, Ryota was starting to think. After all, he’d seen her laughing and smiling with Miho once before. 

But then Miho was hardly someone he could compare himself to. She was some sort of happiness spreader as she walked around with that cheerful smile on her face and carelessly let herself speak with anyone in the hopes of taking away some unease or stress. Yup, he could never compete with that. 

“Ryota made those mochi, Hirohito-kun,” Miho murmured with her blissful smile on her face once again, as if she were receiving some sort of gift. 

“They’re yummy, Ryota-sensei,” Hirohito said, breaking away from his inhaling of the snacks just long enough to say it before getting back to work. 

With those simple words, Ryota couldn’t help but let the worries he had been having take a back seat as his stomach and cheeks filled with warmth, “Thanks!” 

He smiled then before letting his hand go out to ruffle the kid’s hair. His pronunciation of things had gotten a lot better, Ryota realized as he gave one last pat before pulling away. Miho really was a dedicated teacher and after Madara had first met the kid and mother, she only seemed that much more determined to get their family registry to go through. It apparently had turned into her dream to get Madara to allow both Izumi and Hirohito to be adopted into the Uchiha clan but Ryota wasn’t sure if it were a hopeless goal or something that could really happen. He’d learn not to question Miho, who seemed to get her way a lot of the time and didn’t back down very often. 

Just another reason why she was amazing. 

“Ryota-kun,” Miho said with a grin as she looked at him, “you have a really cute smile around Hirohito-kun. I wonder why that is.”

He wasn’t sure if she were just making conversation as Izumi quietly sat, sipping at her tea, but it still didn’t help with his heart as he flushed deeply, hand going to rub at the back of his neck sheepishly. “What are you talking about, Miho-san?”

Miho gave a low hum before tilting her head, “That’s right, I suppose you’re always terribly cute though.”

She was definitely a killer. Not in the way he had once been but more so in the way that she was the taker of hearts, and the destroyer of mental worlds. Immediately his blush worsened and, just to escape being stared at by two lovely women and a child, Ryota stood up. Barely missing hitting the table with his dead leg﹘as he had come to start calling it﹘he quickly reorientated himself to stand up to full height. 

“Miho-san, don’t start with that  _ now _ . I have, uh, I have to go talk to my dad,” Ryota said quickly before taking that as his chance to leave, hurriedly leaving the room before he stopped just outside the door. Leaning against the side, leg throbbing with the sudden exertion, Ryota ground his teeth down and felt much more his age than ever before. Just a dumb teen that had no idea about the world and how to deal with women. 

Even outside, he could still clearly hear her laughter and for once he couldn’t help but think of her as incredibly cruel. 

**Cruel World**

Miho sighed out upon feeling the sweat prespire at her brow before she felt her concentration break. It was in moments like that in which she had to draw back from her chakra reserves and let herself relax. Otherwise, she had a real fear that Saiken would be disturbed by her internal prodding, and even worse, she would begin to lose track of what was hers and what was his. Chakra was weird that way, and even more than that, she had more fear in that the more chakra she used of his, the angrier he got. 

So perhaps she should just hurry up and figure out how to get into contact with him, how to fill in the blanks of her memories by thinking of ways to cross into the void in which he resided in. She wondered if he would hate her and knew the probability of that was rather high. She  _ was _ his captor after all. 

“I’m terrible,” she mumbled to herself softly before she let herself lay back in the dewy grass, careless of the way the rain soaked ground spread through her thin layers. Summer was much too hot after all, and she somehow grew tired of wearing her luxurious kimono in the afternoons of where she trained in the backyard closest to where Madara would inevitably be. She had no doubt in her mind that he could look out at her at anytime from his bedroom window but she could still not yet bring the energy up to care. 

The weekends usually left her scrambling for her sanity and peace of mind for the days that she taught school, a fact of life that she had come to know well since the month of May had passed by so quickly before her eyes. Now they were in the full swing of June, practically blistering underneath the sun as if it were a fire that had been stoked too high. She was practically roasting and the sweat forming on her breasts were nothing to joke about with how they made the materials stick to her, only making them that much heavier on her chest. At this point she thought herself a ridiculous child for having wished for them in the first place. 

Still, she wanted to do something fun, something that she normally never got to do but could remember doing it fondly as a child. 

Like swimming, perhaps. 

Did they even have a lake nearby? Miho wasn’t too clear on the geography unfortunately. She felt too embarrassed to ask, as, after all, there was no feasible way for Madara to allow her to go swimming when she still needed to figure out how to perform a genjutsu. She thought she was close but also knew that her chakra expended itself too easily and trying for too long left her worse off for it. 

Huffing out a sigh, Miho sat up and looked surreptitiously around herself before adjusting the way her sarashi fit around her chest by pulling it away from her skin. She felt dirty and in direct need of a bath from the way her own sweat soaked into the binding over the chest. 

Then, a surprise that sent her heart racing her and a yelp leaping out of her, she heard that damned name. 

“Sakura,” he said softly, and she knew who it was even as she refused to look up, fingers still caught beneath her bandages as she refused to pull them out like a scared child. She could not, however, help the blush that spread up her neck and to the tip of her forehead as she kept her gaze trained dutifully on the blades of grass that swayed against a soft breeze. 

“Madara-san,” she murmured, hating the way her heart beat so furiously against her ribcage but unable to fight against it as she slowly but surely adjusted her posture beneath the heavy gaze of man she wished hadn’t been there to see her unsightful actions. She should have known but there she was nonetheless. 

“You’re very good with children aren’t you?” he asked and the strange question broke her concentration as she looked up in surprise, breath catching at the sight of his smile. It was small, barely noticeable in the harsh lighting that blocked out most of his face in the shadow his own body created, but there she could see the slight curve of his lips. He was amused. 

She could only imagine how much worse her blush could get as she swallowed her sudden nerves as well as she could before giving a small nod.

“I would like to think so,” she murmured past the climbing anxiety that wanted to choke her. She wouldn’t let it, after all, she never did anymore. Not around Madara most of all. 

“Then I will require your assistance today at the lake,” he murmured, holding his hand out as she instinctively reached up.

It was when she recalled where her hands had been that she hesitated, already feeling the sweat sticking to her fingertips. But he seemed not to mind as he carelessly put his hand in hers before using his other arm to wrap around her waist. She leaned against him as if it were some natural part of living but in actuality it had been long since she’d been so close to another human being that wasn’t a child. 

Miho felt herself sway into his hold before realizing herself and jerking upright, finding that her body moved from him easily, even as his hand remained in hers. His palm was cool despite the weather and she was beginning to feel more and more shameful in his presence. The fact that her sweat was getting all over his hands was a sure sign of that, but she still couldn’t bring it in her to let go completely, somehow finding comfort in feeling the bumps and nicks of scars that coated his hand.

Which only made her feel all the more guilty as she felt her mixed feelings come to the surface. She wanted to touch him and yet that was wrong of her. She wanted to touch him and yet she did not know why. She’d been asking herself for the entire month of May and there she was, still asking, in June. 

“Please excuse my a-actions,” Miho stuttered out, wanting to apologize next but unable to look up at him and meet his gaze, even as her fingers unknowingly tightened on his. 

“The fact that you were touching your breasts? What is there to excuse? It’s hot out and you wear too much to begin with.”

He spoke too bluntly for her to keep up, it seemed, as her eyes quickly went up to stare at him with wonder. She expected a scolding, or something. She had not expected him to say something so...well,  _ that _ . It made her both bolder and curious.  

“Then what would I wear?” Miho asked sliding up closer to him as they began to walk, “I only have my kimono but they were made for a body that was not like the one I have now.”

“What do you mean?” he asked softly, his voice barely carrying as if he hadn’t known he’d done it himself.

“Um, I told you before that I was very sensitive to pain in the past right?” Miho checked and upon noticing the subtle nod, she went on, “Well, I never retained heat well and would often get sick from the cold if I weren’t properly clothed. All of my kimono are thick and heavily layered because of that and now... It seems that my body is different with me as a host to Saiken.”

“You’ve named the bijuu?” he asked, brow lifting up in what Miho read as surprise before a chuckle escaped his lips, “How very like you, Sakura.”

For a moment she couldn't say anything, completely stuck in hearing his laugh echo in her ears as she looked down, lips pursing. Her cheeks burned and beneath the sun that continued to beat down on them, she felt ready to pass out. 

“Um, no, it’s not that I named him,” Miho weakly began to explain, “Saiken is his actual name. They all have names, actually.”

“And you know from your memories then, don’t you?” he asked, and she wanted him to continue to speak, never minding what he actually had to say. There was something so utterly calming in the way he spoke to her, his deep voice shifting into a softer one. She could only describe it as kind.

“Yes,” she murmured, barely registering his question for what it was as she attempted to think of something to add to the conversation, “Madara-san, what do you need at the lake?”

At that he merely looked down at her and smiled that slight smile that sent strange feelings extending within her stomach. “You’ll see, Sakura.”

It was at that lack of an answer that made her turn her gaze downward once more, disappointed. She wasn’t angry like she thought she would be, however, as she continued to hold his hand and walk. Miho had to sigh more so at herself in the end. 

She was being far too confusing, so much so that not even  _ she _ could understand herself.

Not even a few minutes later, as her thoughts focused more on the forest life around her and less on the squirming pit of emotion in her stomach, Miho was met with the sight of a wide lake that spread itself outward with its lovely water shining in the sunlight filtering through the leaves of the swaying leaves. 

“Komorebi,” Miho whispered softly, marveling at it all before her eyes took note of the smaller details, especially that of a group of children jumping in without regard and making a splash. Beside her, Madara sighed.

“Yakuha!” Madara called out, and when a kid’s head bobbed out of the water, Miho noted the way it froze in place. All of the other kids, at least five, froze along with him before their gazes jumped to where she stood with Madara.

“Hurry up,” one boy pleaded, “get out before he﹘.”

He was cut off the moment Madara appeared before them, flashing into sight as Miho noted the absence of his palm in hers. She tried not to pout and didn’t understand why she even would as she made her way to where they all stood, managing to bring a genuine smile to her face as the children looked up at her. 

“Who is she?” a girl asked, sharp eyes rolling over Miho’s form in a way the left the Uzumaki feeling distinctly insulted but having no idea why. With her brows bunching together she decided not to linger on the thought of it before she gave a low bow.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, I am Uzumaki Miho.”

“Ah!” one kid shrieked, taking a step back in surprise, “The wife!”

Wife...? Miho blinked in shock before looking to Madara. He gave a weak, uncaring shrug.

“Not yet, er,” Miho found her hands going out in front of her as she scrambled to behave normally in front of the children that stared back at her, “I’m his fiance, but we have yet to hold any ceremonies.” And most likely never would.

“Huh?” the girl of before scoffed, “She’ll be the matriarch of our clan then? Doesn’t look like much.”

When she looked at Madara then, eyes wide with uncertainty, he simply shrugged with an expression that seemed to say, “You did say you were good with children.”

It was then that Miho decided that she was not good with  _ all  _ of them, and much less the children of the Uchiha clan. But Miho wouldn’t let herself give up from the harsh words of a child. She had to prove her worth it seemed. 

One of the boys looked over at the girl with a sneer.

“Whatever, Midori, you’re just acting jealous! She’s pretty and you’re not!”

Midori’s expression turned sour as she looked over at the casually grinning boy who had said the words, “Don’t you dare compare me to trash! We are Uchiha! Uchiha! Not some powerless clan where we marry ourselves off for something cheap like beauty!”

Miho wondered how she could be speaking in such a way in front of the very man that had went along with their fake engagement in the first place. Wasn’t she afraid of the punishment for speaking so outrageously? Even if they were really getting married, wouldn’t Midori at least like to remain respectful to the head of her clan? Especially with all the pride she seemed to hold in it...

“You!” Midori yelled out, pointing her finger towards Miho, “You, what do you have to offer?”

Miho felt strangely attacked despite the girl looking no more than ten years old. It was something she decided she would not tolerate, crossing her arms as she gave her fiercest look of disapproval. 

“It is not up for a discussion on what I have to offer, young lady,” Miho bit out, looking at her earnestly then, voice softening in the moments she wanted them to harden the most, “Instead, I will ask that you respect the choices of your clan leader and remember your place.”

Midori’s mouth opened, her eyes lighting up in anger but before she could speak another word, Madara spoke up.

“You’ve been disrespectful to my future wife, and your superior, Midori. I have tried to remain understanding of your circumstances but this is a line you should not have crossed. Please excuse yourself from today’s training and inform Ryoko that you will be seeking intermediate lessons in manners.”

Miho’s eyes widened, unsure of what had just happened and feeling terribly guilty for having caused it all with just her presence. She watched with worried eyes as Midori scowled at her darkly and stomped off from view. 

It was then that one of the kids laughed, “Now we can have fun!”

“Save some of the fun for later,” Madara said with a faint frown on his face, eyes narrowing down the path that Midori receded down. He looked thoughtful, if Miho was reading his expressions right, but not entirely angry. 

Miho couldn’t help but shuffle uncomfortably as she turned her gaze back to where Midori had just been standing. How could she have handled that better? Perhaps not getting so upset over being addressed so poorly, that much would be a given. She could have possibly taken her to the side to scold her, or at the very least not have shamed her so publicly. After all, she had to be the adult in the situation when confronted with a child. 

When looking back at Madara, she felt more childish by the second. 

But he’d already moved on by the time she refocused and her eyes landed on his back, watching as he explained the lesson to the kids. Something about walking over water, something that made all of their eyes go wide before breaking out into cheers and bets.

“I’ll be the first one to do it, I tell you,” one kid said with a fierce grin on her face, “I might be the youngest but I’m better than all of you!”

Then, with a mischievous expression unfurling on a boys face as he carefully snuck up behind her, he lifted her up effortlessly and tossed her into the water. The rest of the class threw up their heads in laughter before the boy looked to Miho and grinned.

“Madara-sama, do I have permission to push her in too?”

The clan leader barely even cracked a smile before he gave a quick and sure nod, “She looks a bit overheated, don’t you all think?”

“Wait,” Miho murmured, putting her hands in front of her as she took a hesitant foot forward, away from the water that would surely soak her kimono and ruin the fabric. But they didn’t seem to be thinking of such things as a few of the kids stepped forward, bringing their hands to her waist before shoving her into the cold water.

She barely even had enough time to catch her breath as she sunk into the lake with a splash. Then, cursing out a symphony in her head, Miho rose up out of the water and turned her glare towards the kid that had started it all, and with a devilish grin of her own, she placed her hand on his, watching as he laughed with the rest of the class. Without a hint of hesitation, she pulled him in with her, taking a small bit of success with hearing the sound of his yelp.

The chorus of laughter doubled in volume before an all out war broke out, kids being shoved in one after one before they all appeared in the water. The only one remaining on land looked to be the unimpressed clan leader as he gazed at all of them with a lifted brow.

“No one wanted to challenge me?” he asked, silencing the squabbling and laughter that pervaded into the air before Miho watched as the heads of all the children turned to look at him on dry land. 

“Everybody,” one voice called out, good humor in his tone, “attack!”

From then it was up to her to maintain the laughter as she watched the lot of them struggle to get him off from his dry land, some of them trying to cajole him off as they promised good behavior and to do other menial things. He continued to be unimpressed as Miho took the time to climb out of the water and address the issue of her clothing, noting how heavily it clung to her but how cool the water had made her feel. 

Still chuckling to herself, Miho stood and worked on wringing out her kimono by hand before finding it was a useless task and walking up to join Madara. He was flicking kids in the forehead before straightening to look at her.

“Will you be trying anything sneaky, Sakura?” he asked lowly, his eyes trained on hers and his voice soft.

Miho felt that natural blush come back to torment her before she shook her head, finding herself looking anywhere but at him. It was then that one of the children met her gaze as she gave a quick nod to the lake, brushing back dark wet locks. 

Obviously the girl wanted Miho to trick him, but could she even do it? 

She looked to Madara and placed a wet hand to his arm, gazing up at him with questions in her eyes, “Madara-san, could you perhaps help me with the knots on my kimono? They’re a bit too tight.”

Which wasn’t a lie, and she would most likely need assistance later on, but for the moment she took it as her chance. His eyes on her, ever watchful, he extended his arms to touch the back where his fingers deftly got to work at loosening the ties. Miho exhaled her gratitude, finding her lungs could expand much better, and she decided that anyone underneath the beating sun would find the best medicine to be the cool water next to them. 

She placed her own hands on his hips, smiling up at him, “Thank you.”

Then, with all the force that she could muster, Miho pushed herself against him, marveling over the sensation of falling just before the both of them splashed. In the shallow water, he wasn't entirely soaked like the rest of them, but it was good enough as the kids broke into hearty laughter. Her hands still on him, she found they had slipped up to his arms, his own having come down to cup around her waist after having broken her fall with his own body. 

Meeting his gaze, she grinned widely as she took a moment to wipe away a strand of hair sticking to her cheek, “I won!”

“So it seems,” he murmured, looking as surprised as she’d ever seen him before watching his expression shift into one that could encompass a crooked smile, “The battle, but not the war.”

Then, as if she were a mere piece of paper, he lifted her up, tossed her on his shoulder and then quickly stood up before lifting her entire body above his head. 

“Wait,  _ wait! _ ” Miho cried out before feeling the disorienting eyesight as she was sent flying in the air before hitting the water with a painful smack. Yet, as she rose up out of the water, she began to laugh too hard to care that she was in pain, flicking water at where Madara stood with a smug expression.

“Everyone attack!” the youngest one said, voice charged with energy as she led an onslaught of kids climbing up Madara’s back and onto his arms. She watched them all try to drag him into the deeper parts of the water but with little success. 

Determined to help out, Miho waded closer to where they all were before meeting his gaze with a smile.

“Won’t you come and enjoy the water, Madara-san?” she asked, closing most of the distance while having no idea what she could possibly do to aid in the mission that the kids had started. 

“I’d imagine that I already am,” he said, kicking his foot up in emphasis to show where he stood, water splashing up to hit her in the face. Pouting, and with little regard to how it looked, Miho closed the distance entirely as she placed her hands on his sides, feeling his warmth seep through as her own chill swept into his dry clothing.

“Let’s pull together!” Miho yelled out with a grin before tightening her hold on him, using any and all of the strength she could muster to pull him in towards the water. Even as they all tried, however, he just wouldn’t budge and by the time they all gave up, they were breathless and she was practically hanging off of him. 

“You’re so unfair,” Miho declared, trying to catch her breath before promptly giving up and pulling away from him. She noted the way she had spread the moisture, taking a small amount of satisfaction in seeing the entire front of him left with the imprint that she had left. 

She needed to take a break though, and so, wading out of the water, Miho found herself collapsing at the side of the lake with laughter still bubbling forth. The only thing that would have made it better would be if she could take off her drenched kimono and shed a few pounds off her waterlogged body. 

“Do you need help taking it off?” one of the girls of the class asked as she came to sit besides her, “Sorry that Toshio and the others pushed you in when you were wearing something so pretty.”

Miho shrugged as she struggled to sit up, suddenly feeling twice her size, “I have others to wear.”

“Oh,” she murmured, eyes lighting up on Miho’s before she moved to give a low bow, forehead coming to meet the ground, “my name is Nanoka.”

“Nanoka-san,” Miho murmured out with a smile, “how cute.”

The girl seemed to flush at the compliment, clearing her throat before lifting a hand to point at the kimono that clung too tightly, “Do you need help taking it off? Uh, I don’t know how it works in other places but the Uchiha clan won’t judge you for showing your under clothes.”

“Yeah!” a boy listening in piped up before getting smacked in the head by another girl. 

Miho had to smile at that, suddenly feeling the happiest she’d been in a very long time, filled with the warmth at the children’s quick acceptance of her and readiness to forgive a sorry sight. But she wouldn’t allow herself to do it, and wouldn’t allow herself to show another shameful side of herself to Madara.

“I think I’ll be fine,” she murmured, reaching out a hand to run her fingers through the Nanoka’s hair, “although, would you like me to pin your hair back for the lessons?”

“S-Sure,” Nanoka stuttered out, cheeks beginning to darken as she moved to sit in front of Miho, who struggled to get onto her knees before bringing her hands to the beautiful ebony hair that all Uchiha members seemed to have. 

“Uwahh,” Miho breathed out with a smile as she carefully braided the sides before bringing them in, using them as a hair binder. “Your hair texture is so nice, Nanoka-san.”

“I want my hair up too, Uzumaki-san,” a boy whined, sliding up beside them as he pulled at his similarly long hair.

“Me too!” a girl cried out before she was suddenly hit with an onslaught of voices.

“Okay,” Miho responded with calmly, smiling as her fingers moved faster, doing her best to make them all look presentable. It almost felt like, just for a second, that she was their mother and was trying to get the whole lot of them ready for school. She couldn’t help but feel warmed by the notion to the point that before she knew it, she’d gone through the whole class and was met with Madara sitting down in front of her. She hated the weird feeling that made its way through her the moment he tilted his head back to show a knowing grin. 

“Are you sure?” she asked, tilting her head to the side and wondering how she had gotten the chance to be so lucky as to fulfill the need that had been driving her nuts. Hadn’t she been wishing she could braid his hair before? The only thing she could not do to make it a completed dream was to decorate it with flowers and adorn it with hairpieces. 

“We’re not getting anything else done today, are we? Not with the sun already setting, so take as long as you want.”

His voice was so uncaring, so stoic that she couldn’t help but blush. It sounded like he knew full well that this had been what she wanted to do. While embarrassing, Miho couldn’t help but release a soft sigh before letting her hands dive in to stroke his long locks of dark hair. It was surprisingly soft, almost silky beneath her hands even as they curled around her fingertips. It seemed good hair ran in the family genes. 

Her legs were going numb from having sat so long but she paid no attention to it as she quickly set to work on pulling his hair into a ponytail, using the method of a braid to reign in the unruly strands at his forehead before wrapping it around where she held onto his mass of hair tightly. But then, backtracking, Miho undid everything and instead began to make a tightly woven braid down his back. Feeling more than tempted to undo all of it, Madara moved away before she could, coming to stand up with his back tall as he faced the kids that went on to coo over each other’s new hairstyles.

“We’ve wasted the day but I expect you all to be ready to learn tomorrow with my wife to be overlooking your practice.”

Miho blinked in surprise, looking at Madara with her jaw hanging open. She hadn’t expected  _ that _ and neither did the kids as they looked to her with varying expressions of excitement and curiosity. And yet, despite it all, what surprised her the most had to be the warm feelings that spread within her chest at the way he called her his wife to be. She looked down to her empty fingers then, with pursed lips and flushing cheeks, ashamed that she was such a confusing person and unsure of what to say in that moment. 

“For now, return to your homes before it gets dark.”

“Yes, sensei!” they all yelled out in a practiced chorus before milling out of sight as they chattered on together over the events of the day, leaving Miho alone with the person she really would have rather have gone too. 

“Aren’t you going to stand?” he asked, turning to look down at her. 

Miho attempted to but then, upon yelping at the feeling of pins and needles in her legs, she let herself remain seated. Madara was not the type to wait, however, as he quickly grabbed hold of her and hefted her up into his arms.

“Is this going to become a habit?” Miho asked, shaking as she tried not to think of how her legs had just become a weapon against her.

“If it must,” he murmured before helping her to stand on her feet, her hands clinging to his robes as she fought against the unpleasant sensations overwhelming her thoughts. Carefully, she tried to take a step but just as quickly failed, slipping and wobbling to the point that she nearly took the both of them down. 

Instead, he caught her, his hand going down to adjust her weight in his arms.

“Tomorrow, Sakura,” Madara murmured softly at her ear as his hand lingered on her hip, his other going up to tug at her drenched hair, “I want you to place a genjutsu on one of them.”

“One of...” Miho trailed off, thoughts scattering the more he touched her, watching his unchanging expression the more his hand moved, feeling it slid up from her thigh to cup the small of her back. She felt she could take no more, cheeks heating up as her legs felt too weak to stand on. He leaned in close, unrelenting as his breath hit against her cheeks. She saw his smile then, the devilish quirk of his lips as his eyes met hers. 

“One of the kids, Sakura,” he murmured, his gaze inching down her face until they reached her lips. She sucked in a quick breath at the sensation that spread throughout her stomach, finding herself leaning in despite herself. 

Then, as quickly as he had moved in to catch her fall, he lifted her up into his arms and moved like the wind in his travel. Before she could fully comprehend it all, Miho found herself in her bedroom, still soaked from the day's events.  It was then that Miho blinked, bewildered as she turned to look around herself. He truly was a sadist, wasn’t he? Expecting her to succeed on any of these hardworking kids. But she supposed she would have to do it. 

Fingers tightening around her chest bindings, Miho wondered if she had the skills to do it, if she could even attempt to play catch up with children. Her fear was that the answer was no but, as her heart continued to beat recklessly within her chest, she decided that she would like to see a future in which she could. 

Which meant that she would at least try her best. 

**Cruel World**

Shigeki had never known that before then, there existed a world as beautiful as this. 

“Kazunari-sama,” a girl called out as soon as their boat reached the docks, stepping forward to help Mito off of the swaying watercraft before looking over to him, her eyes a beautiful silver. Or were they gold? Shigeki couldn’t be sure as he mindlessly reached out to cup her hand in his, absentmindedly surprised when a sudden strength surged around him, feeling his body be jerked off the boat and into her arms as if he were a fly in her grasp. 

She let go almost instantly and Shigeki had to lean over on Mito to still his swaying vision, blinking as the world continued to spin despite the breathtaking beauty around them. 

“Thank you, Yamamoto-chan,” Kazunari said, accepting the girl’s hand in his own before he stepped off easily. Then, with a grin on his face he placed his knuckles to the her head and began to tap. “You’re such a good girl! Always on time, you are. How could we be so lucky as to have you in our clan!”

Shigeki’s sharp, albeit through an onslaught of dizziness, eyes didn’t miss the girl’s nod as if she had been listening to something. Perhaps it was the seemingly random tapping on the head or something else, but he had no doubts in the fact that they were communicating hidden messages right in front of him. 

He wasn’t particularly offended at the realization and almost felt a bit of relief. On the boat ride they had been far too nice to him, and far too chatty for his tastes. After a while, especially when Hashirama got to talking, he simply wanted to take a nap and daze off at the sight of a beautiful sky as it turned to night. It was almost fresh to know that he still had to keep up his guard, and to observe them and their hidden messages for what they were. After all, that was his mission, to see if they were worthy of becoming his clan’s allies as he came into power. 

Being twenty-seven, it was only a matter of time before they announced his succession and the date of his inauguration. So here also lied his first decision as a leader to his clan; would he trust the Uzumaki or would he cast them aside as unworthy? It was all a matter of time. 

Yamamoto broke out of Kazunari’s hold and came to stand before Shigeki, who barely managed to stand on his own as he struggled to keep down his lunch. The day had been strange and unlike how he thought it would be, much more exhausting than even a day spent training. He just wanted to sleep at that point but could not, as she opened her mouth. 

“If you will allow me, I’ll be showing you to your room and will have a meal brought in.”

His room! Finally, a place to sleep.

Shigeki smiled and nodded at the pretty woman before him, meeting her startlingly bright eyes, “Please do.”

**Cruel World**

“So where did Miho-sensei go off to?” Hirohito asked, nibbling on the freshly baked bread that Ryota came bearing as he did his usual afternoon check up. 

“She’s with the clan head, I think,” Ryota murmured, meeting Izumi’s gaze before letting it jump away and back to her son. He stared up at the two of them with wide eyes as if he saw something neither of them dared to see and was too afraid to. Sighing, Ryota looked to the ceiling, praying to whatever forces there were to help him in his time of need. He needed Miho, he realized, the very person that set them all at ease with her smile and good nature.

“This tastes delicious,” Izumi murmured, voice soft as she delicately picked at the bread slice he had handed her.

“My father made it,” Ryota confessed easily with only a slightly forced smile, “he likes to cook in his free time so he’s always giving me things to eat. Now that the two of you are here, he’s been doing it a lot more often too.”

Izumi looked down then, and for a second Ryota wondered if he said something stupid again. He never knew; she got sad at the weirdest things. This time was no different, her eyes lowering and her lips pursing. She was contemplating something and by the looks of her tight shoulders, she felt guilty for something.

Izumi was a weird girl and he had no idea what it was about her that was so mystifying. He must be an easy sort of guy then. First Miho and now her? His heart couldn’t take it anymore with these women that were older than him. Even worse was that none of them had a lick of Uchiha blood﹘ _ why  _ was he even thinking of that?  _ He _ was the weird one. 

A terrible person, more like.

Izumi had come for the work and shelter. That was it and it was all for her son. That had nothing to do with him and the way he felt his insides squirm when he saw her, and nothing to do with how, when looking at her hands so full of blisters and cuts, he wanted to hold them. He was disgusting, wasn’t he? Wooed by the pretty women, none of them wanting to woo. 

He had only caused trouble for Miho after all, so what could he even expect with this?

It only made matters worse when he was at school because there was Yumi. It got ridiculous when he entered her into the mix. After all, she was sweet and thoughtful and kind to him. She sometimes fed him with her own fingers and she smiled brightly even when it rained. But he still wasn’t close to her.

He wasn’t close to any of them and at points it got to be an overbearing madness. Was it love? Was it obsession? Most importantly, would it ever end? He certainly wanted to. He would be most happy if he could just forget to feel entirely. 

Okay, perhaps not entirely. Sometimes he liked the sensation of wanting to be next to a person, the longing. It might have been weird and a bit creepy but well, Ryota seemed to be stuck with it. His heart was too easily swayed and it seemed like no one wanted to take it upon seeing it. 

“I’ve been wondering, Ryota-san,” Izumi suddenly started, brushing back strands of her long black hair, her eyes looking into his, “what do you get out of helping me and my son?”

Helping...?

Ryota couldn’t help but frown because well, if he had anything to get out of it, it wasn’t as obvious as monetary value or the weight of a connection. Really, he had no idea why he had wanted to so desperately get them a job. Miho had felt similarly and so, upon talking with Madara she had somehow gotten a favorable proposition. They had no idea of Izumi’s past, had no idea if she had become a prostitute in the time since she gave birth to Hirohito (something that made it nigh impossible to get a decent job anywhere), and had no idea what she would do if she just so happened to chance upon the Uchiha secrets. Would she sell them? It was a concern of Madara’s but had been settled soon after when they decided she would live off the clan compound and would only work in the furthest gardens. 

So really, what did they all get from helping a woman and her child?

Ryota cocked his head to the side and couldn’t help but feel a chuckle bubble forth, “I suppose it’s a good conscience and your company.”

For a second he wondered if he had said something wrong again﹘he was an idiot of the finest calibre﹘but before long, Izumi looked back up to him and he saw her lips curl up into a delicate smile, her blue eyes shining in the light of a lamp. His heart began to thump in his chest, his cheeks heating up and it was he who had to look away, even as he savored the expression in his thoughts.

“I never knew this world could still contain a kind person,” she said softly, “I thought it wasn’t in people’s nature.”

Ryota’s flush deepened and he found it hard to look back up, afraid that if he looked at her any longer the feelings would only get all the more stronger. But still, his curiosity got the better of him and he tilted his back up, his eyes widening. 

“Miho-san said to me one time that kindness is something that we build up into ourselves. She said that it’s what makes a kind person so special. I have to agree,” Izumi went on, the most she had ever said to him in all of their time together, “because I could never be so brave.”

For some reason, despite her not saying anything more, Ryota began to feel an overbearing weight cross onto his shoulders at the last words that left her mouth. In her eyes he could see the tragedies she must have witnessed in such a cruel world, and he could see their own weight on her as her shoulders drooped low, as if giving up. She sighed then, forcing a smile before she calmly took another sip of her tea.

But Ryota couldn’t shake the feeling that she wanted to cry, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wanted to cry too. 

“I suppose it can’t be helped,” Ryota mumbled out, trying to brighten everything up, “but I’ve always thought bravery was an overrated trait. All it does is make what we do cheap.”

“What do you mean?” Izumi asked, seemingly curious and even Hirohito looked up at him for the answer.

“Bravery conceals cowardice but fear is something we need to survive. If we say we aren’t afraid, we become liars, possibly to ourselves. Fear is what drives us forward and it makes the shinobi force stronger. If we seek to survive and fear the consequences of death, then we do our best and let it become our aid. I suppose that in and of itself could be bravery but, I don’t know, doesn’t it cheapen our actions if we say it was due to being brave? Shouldn’t it be determination?” Ryota shook his head, wondering if he even made any sense or if he was just mindlessly babbling about something he had no idea about. He just wanted to make her feel better and now he was spewing crap that he had never put real thought into. 

By effect, did that make him a liar?

“Were you afraid as a shinobi then? I heard from Miho-san that you were a strong one back before, well...” she trailed off, and she looked guilty just for asking.

Ryota had to laugh at that and he had no idea why he found it so funny but instead of wondering, he just decided to answer her, meeting her gaze full on, “Every day of my life I was afraid of something. Would I do well today? What if I mess up? Could I handle the pain? Would I die? I never really knew what the day would bring me so I always wondered. Life is unpredictable and sometimes things happen that make you realize there are things much worse than death.”

“Is your wound much worse than death?” she asked softly, her gaze lowering once more.

“I suppose it  _ was _ a death of sorts, actually. Don’t know if it’s worse though,” Ryota turned thoughtful, wondering what was the right way to explain it, “I feel like a different person entirely now, like I left the person I was in the past. Though there are times where I realize how much I miss it, the fear, but then I just remind myself that I’m happy where I am.”

“Ah,” Izumi said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, “I suppose I’m happy too.”

“Well, I know for a fact that  _ I’m  _ happy,” Hirohito said with a grin, taking another bite of his bread, “because my belly gets full everyday and it’s all thanks to sensei.”

Ryota reached over once more to ruffle the kids hair before rising up and bowing, “Well, I need to get going now but it has been a pleasure to speak with you.”

“Um,” Izumi intoned, voice unsure as he met her eyes, “I-I, uh, if you come back then can we talk more like this?”

Ryota was speechless for a moment, wondering how it was possible that she could pull off looking cute as she said it, even as there was an edge of desperation in her voice. He stared at her consideringly before nodding slowly, “Yes, of course.”

Her smile at that nearly broke him into pieces.

**Cruel World** **– End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References Explained:
> 
> Sarashi – binding of the chest for the wearing of a kimono.
> 
> Komorebi – sunlight filtering through trees; yes they have a real word for it and Enbi so kindly introduced it to me.
> 
> You – When Midori is calling Miho ‘you’, she is saying ‘omae’. お前　（omae）: used in very informal situations or toward people of lower status. This word feels very “blunt” and can easily come off as rude, which is why Miho reacts in such a way.


	19. Remember The Fun

**Ｗ** **ｉｌｌ ｏｆ Ｆｉｒｅ**

 **_Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ_ ** **_19_ **

_Our hearts hide from the world_

_Like this, that sky is so funny,_

_There in the distance, watching over us._

**Remember The Fun**

Kids were fun to be around. At least now that she was an adult and could simply play an observer's role. When growing up, she’d always blindly followed the others wants and desires. It was almost sort of funny. Even when they asked her what she wanted to do with the day, she would never have a clue what to say and would simply look to Mito for suggestions. None of the Uchiha clan kids were like her. Not a single one was shy, hesitant, and unsure. Oh how Mito would love them!

It sure made it easy when getting them rounded up by the lake, redoing their braids—upon being loudly demanded to—as they set off to practice water-walking. Plenty asked if she knew how, and wondered why she didn’t when she told them no. Her life, it seemed, was something of a curiosity. They’d only ever experienced what was everyday living for an Uchiha and it seemed to Miho that her existence was something exotic and strange. Apparently, to the kids that surrounded her, that was a good thing.

Well, a good thing to most and a vile thing to one. Midori Uchiha was not forthcoming with her acceptance of outsiders. Miho wasn’t sure why—the Uchiha clan and the Uzumaki clan had never been actual enemies. The extent of their relationship came from the Senju clan, which made things tense but not impossible to navigate around. Especially now that Miho had stayed so long with the family, having achieved mostly good feedback on her character.

Miho tried to shrug it off; she shouldn’t be so childish to think that _everyone_ should accept her. To some she was a loose woman, to others she was a beautiful musician, and to most she was a stranger. Miho reveled in that. For as far as her name had carried her, only those with an appreciation for performances could ever know of her. She at least had some level of anonymity—not at all like Madara, who she found was recognized _everywhere_.

With a startled laugh that bubbled forward unbidden, Miho looked at the kids attempting to dry themselves off. She blinked, surprised at the way the idea curled itself around her brain. Eyeing the way the kids splashed and made a fool of themselves, it would only be right for her to be a proper advisor. She was there to look after them for a reason, after all, and they shouldn’t be slacking just because she wasn’t a real shinobi.

Choice made, Miho stood up as unnoticed as she could before scurrying to the far left and ducking behind the first suitable bush that presented itself to her. As moved she couldn’t help but think one worrying thought after the other. Would she be able to pull it off? _How_ would she pull it off? Was it even possible for her to?

There were so many kids! She would have to place the genjustu on _all_ of them for her to complete her own assignment. Why didn’t she think of that before? Madara was practically setting her up to fail and feel that ache, that piercing ache that was a mixture of only the darkest emotions. Most of all there would be doubt in the place of what Miho considered her newly polished self-confidence. It was disheartening to think, especially crouched behind a bush in all places.

Miho shook her head, trying to clear up those unfortunate thoughts. Think positive! Don’t be such a _whiner_ . That’s all had ever done in the past was whine about how difficult things were, how she wished things were different and that she could simply just do one thing someone asked of her! Miho wanted to _change_ , she wanted to believe in herself still. It was such a nice feeling, having faith in yourself.

The nagging thoughts refused to leave, however, and she found herself wilting just a bit at the thought of failing Madara. She could just imagine his eyes clouding over with disappointment or, or something _worse_. Disgust.

She didn’t know why but that would probably hurt her the most out of all of this. Maybe it was because he was, in a way, her captor and she was his prisoner wanting to impress and get a lessened sentence. Or, maybe, she was beginning to care in ways she should _definitely_ not—she refused to acknowledge that her heartbeat picked up in pace at the thought—and it was becoming a similar situation to all of the others.

Ugh, she was just so, so _confusing!_

Why couldn’t she just make sense of herself for once?

Biting her lip in a way she would have never dared to do before, Miho watched the kids from her vantage point and noted that several of the students were looking around for her. Their cute heads swiveled around and an argument seemed to be breaking out but she was beyond ear shot. She sighed. It was really now or never.

Hesitantly, watching her hands shake the entire time, Miho summoned up as much chakra as she dared before making the signs. Then something strange and somehow funny happened. Her hands stopped shaking.

She withheld the hysterical giggle that wanted to spring forward and instead watched with wide eyes as the genjutsu took hold over a student she’d picked randomly and she was seeing it all happen with bated breath.

A shriek tore through the air, the name unmistakeable as one of the boys jumped up in surprise, “Madara-sama!” Immeadiately the kids turned to look with widened eyes, a mixture of fear and anticipation in their gaze.

She’d done it.

What—but how?

“What a silly question!” Miho whispered between half-panicked, half-estatic breaths. Of course she had done it and with her hands! With her own stupid hands, she’d done it. She’d pulled off the genjutsu, the one she’d been fretting over for weeks and here she was watching it all unfold before her very eyes.

The kids all stood straight as a board and Miho blinked, wondering just what exactly the boy was seeing. Madara had explained to her that the genjutsu never worked on the user as it would run the risk of being a hazard to the shinobi and that would just be dumb sense. Still, Miho wasn’t so sure if what they were seeing was something she’d want them to. Genjustu, after all, was primarily used as an offensive defense.

Getting out from behind the bush, Miho crossed the distance just in time to hear the tail-end of a statement.

“—eww, kissing!”

Her face turned bright scarlet as her heart began to hammer within her chest with little to no warning at all. No, kissing was definitely not what she wanted them to see at all. How was it that she’d conjured such an image for the boy? She’d have to ask Madara about all of that even if she were certain he’d already explained all of that long ago. Miho was not the best student.

Shaking her head of her thoughts and the fact that she wasn’t able to control the genjutsu itself. It was also dumb sense for the shinobi not to have _any_ idea what their illusions were doing. But she had no idea who the fake Madara was kissing and it was that thought that sent the strongest wave of dismay running through her.

He shouldn’t be kissing _anyone_ that wasn’t her.

Miho jumped, absolutely startled at the thought that had torn its way through her. Of course, well, he should be advised _not_ to. He was her betrothed as it was and so it wasn’t as if they needed any rumors running around about how it wasn’t the marriage of love that it was supposed to be.

Or rumored to be.

Ever since the whole cherry blossom viewing occurance, and the very fact that Madara had never been known to call her anything but Sakura, the servents had taken to rumoring that the two of them were _in love_. Which made sense to them, given her family name. How else could the match been made? The Uchiha were known to marry within the clan, after all, and she was in the way of that.

Until then Miho had never really focused too much on that rumor and had never tried to fuel it but, well, she liked that it was there. It was alarming but true. Miho _liked_ the idea that there was a couple like Miho and Madara that was in love, even if it were only in the form of a rumor. It didn’t matter—or did it?—that it would never happen in actuality.

The truth of it was that Miho wanted to unite all of the clans and protect Izuna. But it wasn’t as if _that_ would ever make its round among the servants. It was too incredulous, too weird of a goal—a little bit crazy too.

Miho shifted uncomfortably then, especially when the poor boy (what was his name again?) whispered, bright red, her name.

Oh.

It clicked.

Madara and _her_ were kissing.

It wasn’t real of course but that didn’t stop the blush from rising on her face as she could think to do only one thing; she fled. Heading right back for her bush from before, she somehow made it without anyone noticing. They were probably all amazed or horried at what they were witnessing.

She needed to dispel the genjustu, that much was true. But how would she do that? Oh this was just _terrible_. Not to mention inappropriate for kids to be seeing it all happen. Soon they’ll go off blabbering about all of it unfolding before their eyes and then, and then...Madara!

 _He’ll_ hear about it and she’ll become mortified and just want to die.

Well, she certainly felt close to it; dying of shame, that is.

Sucking in a breath, Miho ran through the steps in her mind once more before her eyes going wide with remembrance. Letting her hands form the signs, Miho found herself grumbling curses she’d never said before in her life. She didn’t know how she did it, but she did.

Disrupting the flow of her own chakra in the boy’s head, she exhaled slowly in an attempt to calm herself. It wasn’t working. For reasons she couldn’t fathom, her heart was beating. She wondered what it was about the Uchiha brothers that made her this way. Granted, Izuna hadn’t made her feel this way in a long time but still. _Still_.

Why Madara? Why now?

Duly, she realized that it was Madara teasing her yesterday. Yes, it was his fault. He’d been messing with her, _touching_ her and now she was just feeling the effects of it. Meaning that they would eventually go away, like they had for Izuna.

“Go away now,” she mumbled impatiently with a grimace and she felt like she had finally gone crazy. Why was she talking to emotions? As if _they’d_ listen!?

Steeling herself, Miho stood and walked coolly out from the bush. A new calm was settling over herself but it was all an act, she was channeling performance day cool and was trying very hard not to trip over herself as she neared the Uchiha clan kids.

They were staring dazedly at each other and the boy who’d seen the unfortunate side effects of Madara’s teasing was pale in the face. He looked very, very confused. She understood the feeling.

“What’s going on here?” she asked in a voice that didn’t sound like her own. It was too loud to her ears and inwardly she was wincing. The kids all looked up at her and she had the oddest feeling like they were seeing into her soul. Like a miracle, she did not blush. In fact, she felt a bit out of it, a bit, not entirely, out of her body.

The boy began to mumble out something about thinking he’d seen someone.

Then Yakuha spoke up and pointed an accusatory finger at the poor boy, “Sei said he saw Madara-sama and then he said something about kissing, about him kissing _you_. It was weird.”

Miho could have spilled it all then, told them the truth and just let them laugh at her and her poor attempts at a genjustu. Then she realized that would be dumb of her, to give the kids another reason to distrust a marriage between her and their clan head. Not that she wanted to marry him, not that she wanted to marry _at all._ But still, she did have a reputation to maintain.

So, as calmly as she would on any other perfomance day, she lifted her sleeve and gave a demure laugh, “Oh my, Sei-kun, you have quite the imagination.”

“Imagination?” he repeated, still pale as his gaze flickered from her and where he had seen Madara last.

“Of course,” she said in a kindly voice, inwardly willing him to believe her.

“I guess,” he mumbled, flushing now as everyone looked at him, “Sorry, Uzumaki-san.”

“If that’s all,” she gave them a smile as if they were all sharing a joke, “before Madara-san actually arrives, you should get back to training.”

Then, Toshio, if her memory served her right, piped up in a loud voice, “I’m gonna be the first to master water-walking, losers!”

“Not if I beat you first,” Nanoka declared and with that, the kids all raced back towards the water. Miho let out a sigh of relief.

But it was a little too soon, she realized, as she turned and almost jumped out of her skin. Midori stared up at her with a knowing look, her gaze sharp and unrelenting.

“Genjustu gone wrong?” the girl asked, arms crossing over her chest as her head cocked to the side, “A bit weak for a grown woman.”

Miho felt rather uncomfortable and she couldn’t help but realize why. Midori made her feel like she did in the past, like a small useless child. It was alarming, especially given her actual age and how she towered over the younger girl. But those eyes, that expression...

Miho had been facing eyes like those her entire life and she had never once stood up for herself.

She was silent, wondering what to say in return. Midori spoke the truth, after all, and one that Miho had often suffered for. She was weak and she felt the shame, something she hadn’t felt since her training with Madara had begun. It was always a detriment for her, she realized.

Yet Madara had always been so sure, been certain that she could do better.

Very few of her teachers had ever been like that and Midori represented all the worst.

But what could she say to the truth?

Miho met Midori’s gaze and felt her lips turn up into an unbidden smile, “I know.”

“You know?” the girl gave her a fierce glare and, not for the first time, Miho was stunned at the vehemence in her voice. She wondered just what made her so hated. It couldn’t just be that she was an outsider, could it?

“Yes,” Miho said, brows furrowed in confusion as she tried to figure out the mystery that was Midori, “I know that I will never be anything amazing like your clan leader.

“Then why do you still try?” Midori asked and if it were possible, she looked even more confused than Miho felt.

“Well,” she paused, brows furrowing further, “it’s difficult to explain but I’m hoping to help protect the people I care about.”

“Help? Protect?” Midori asked, expression going sour, “ _Uzumaki-san_ , have you ever felt loss?”

Miho had never heard her family name sound so much like a curse but she tried instead to focus on the question. She really could have just walked away, she probably _should_ have walked away. But something kept her there, answering question after question and being looked at as if she weren’t worth much more than a single coin or the dirt on her feet.

Had she ever felt loss? Miho had to think and she knew that in her life, in _this_ one, she’d been very lucky. Her parents were alive, her sister alive, and she was unmarred by battle like her family. She never had to have nightmares of things she’d done like her sister did, and she’d been instead treated kindly by most for her skill with her voice and instruments. All in all, she was very lucky.

But then she thought back to the scared girl she’d used to be, and crushing grief and anguish that had filled her when a life she’d barely gotten the chance to know had been snuffed out before she could give birth. Miho never liked thinking back to much, it fed too many of her fears about motherhood and only strengthened her resolve not to get married.

So had _she_ felt loss?

“Yes,” Miho said simply and she felt her hand going out to cup the young girl’s cheek, “and I imagine that you have too.”

Midori looked taken aback, stunned as her cheeks rose with heat before she stuttered out, “What do _you_ know?”

Miho shrugged and slipped her hand from cheek to chin, tilting her face up, “I know very little about your struggle, about your pain. The same can be said about mine, Midori-chan, but I am willing to share it if it will help you. Will you meet with me tonight? I should like to show you my favorite part about living here.”

“Where?” Midori asked suspiciously, her eyes narrowing, “and why?”

“Hmm, by the edge of the forest after night has fallen and, well, because we can’t possibly speak such matters here. Now, will you come or not? I’ll bring snacks if you do.”

Midori flushed, looking uncertain before mumbling out a soft, “For the snacks.”

Miho nodded, glad that she could work something out. She’d never been very good at reaching out to others, had always let them come to her, but here she was. She couldn’t help but be proud of herself and managing to be so mature today, all things considered.

“See you then,” Miho said softly before turning away and getting back to the other kids, calling out encouragements and suggestions that were probably less helpful and more a deterrent. She didn’t really care, she felt just a little happier.

Something in her had changed.

**Remember The Fun**

Dinner was awful.

Okay, not awful, just terribly awkward and he _knew_ , he _knew_. Miho couldn’t get over it. She’d done so well pretending to be cool headed and sure but here she was, just sitting there and letting humiliation wash over her.

He knew and he was teasing her, again.

“So,” he had started as he sat at the table with her, fingers poised elegantly with his chopsticks, “I heard an interesting rumor today.”

If she could get any redder, she’d turn into a tomato. She would, she would honestly just turn into a vegetable if he went on like that. Well, she probably wouldn’t but she’d desperately wish that she could. Ugh. He should just shut up. She should help him do it.

With her mouth.

Her chopsticks broke in her hands, sending splinters into her flesh. Miho groaned, the sound coming from deep within her throat. She’d never made a sound like that and she was feeling her cheeks redden, her eyes beginning to water as a result. This was just awful, terrible, the worst torture. Her hands hurt and here she was, about to _cry_ about it.

“Madara-san,” she said, attempting a sweet tone even as it blended into a whine, “please don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he asked, obviously knowing the answer but just trying to make her misfortune even worse than it was. She was mortified. He was the worst, she realized, an absolute beast with no consideration for others.

Miho did a thing she’d also never done before. She glared with force at Madara, jabbing a piece of her broken chopstick in his direction as if she could do anything to hurt him, “You know!”

“What do I know?” he asked, clearly enjoying himself. His lips were curling up into a sadistic smile and his eyes were shining.

“Out with it, you monster!” she cried, jabbing her makeshift weapon into his chest. He easily waved it aside, wiping at his robe and quirking a brow in her direction. She’d never seen him do _that_ before and it sent a wave of heat through her that she wasn’t prepared for or expecting. Miho shivered and frowned as deeply as she could.

“You succeeded in your first genjustu,” he said, turning his face back into a passive one, “well done.”

“Well done?” she echoed, imagining herself jumping him and slapping him upside the head, “Well done? Do you have anything else to say?”

“Do you want me to?” he asked and then suddenly, before she could muster up a reply, he reached for her hands and pulled them out into the open for inspection. “You’re bleeding,” he noted and she saw that it was true.

Funny, she couldn’t feel the pain of it even upon seeing blood well up to the surface and spill onto his clothes. She didn’t even feel _bad_ about it. Okay, she did, but just a little bit and it was because blood was hard to wash out and she didn’t like causing problems for the staff.

Miho watched in horror as Madara made quick work of pulling out any and all of the splinters. Then, right before her eyes, he dipped his head low and licked her fingers. She jumped away at the sensation that threatened to fill her, suddenly finding it too difficult to breathe.

“I-I’m not hungry,” she stammered out, moving away from his immediate reach. Miho had no doubt in her mind that if he really wanted to, he could close the distance between them in a second.

“Miho,” he said softly and her eyes widened. He wasn’t even playing _fair_ , using her name so suddenly like that. Where was the nickname she loathed so much? That would have done marvelously in snapping her back to her senses. But no, this was worse, far worse.

Her heart hammered in her chest and she looked at him dumbly.

“What?” she whispered, her mind suddenly filled with questions.

What if _she_ closed the distance? What if she was the one to torment him, to reach into his robes...

She licked her lips, suddenly finding them dry.

He watched her and the air was charged with something Miho wanted to investigate. She wanted to get closer, she realized. She _wanted_ something to happen, something like what she and Izuna had done long ago.

She bit her lips now as she hated her body’s instinct. Madara, no doubt, was just teasing her. He didn’t want what she wanted. Or did he? She was too scared to find out. Not to mention that it didn’t escape her that it was weird.

It was a weird situation.

She’d been with Izuna before and that was his brother. Brothers! She really was as awful as all those rumors about her. Jumping from one man to the other. A whore. She winced at that. She’d always defended those that looked lowly on women like that, had always strived to cast bigotry from her opinions.

But this was different, this was scary.

She didn’t want to be dirty, and no matter how much she tried otherwise, the feeling was there that if she did what she wanted to...then she really would be shameful. Lectures from her music teacher had done this to her as Hayami had told her to always remain chaste, to never put her honor at risk.

But that thought suddenly filled her with so much anger she could barely breathe.

Who in their right mind put _honor_ in such a place? Who put the weight, the worth of a woman, in whether or not they’d slept with a man? It was stupid and couldn’t possibly capture what made a female whole. They weren’t, _she_ wasn’t just her ability to carry a child in her womb. She had dreams, desires, wishes and cravings. There was no shame in that. She had nothing to be ashamed of.

“Madara-san,” she suddenly found herself speaking, trying to work things out in her head, “do you think it’s a bad thing that I’m not a virgin?”

He blinked and she found that this was the first time that she had actually seen him so surprised. He had really not been expecting that from her. She was a little smug about it too.

“Was it my brother?” he asked instead, surprising her a bit in return.

“Yes,” she spoke honestly and perhaps a bit shyly, “he, well, _I_ had the strangest thought that I could seduce information out of him. I don’t know why but in retrospect I can see how stupid it was.”

“Do you regret it then?” he inquired and she gazed at him thoughtfully.

“No,” she returned with a grin, “I was just remembering how much fun I had with him.”

He quirked a brow but there was a hint of disbelief in his gaze. Like she was continuing to surprise him and he hadn’t been counting on it. She could wholly see why. Normal girls would never even dare think to say something so open, so daring. Especially to the head of a shinobi clan.

Good, she decided, she liked teasing him too.

With a soft laugh, she met his eyes and smiled, “I was also wondering how much fun you would be.”

His jaw dropped. Or inasmuch as it could if you were Madara Uchiha. It was only a bit, making it look as if he were about to speak but when he said nothing, just left his mouth open, she realized that she had truly done something neither of them had expected her to.

She’d just changed the tone of their relationship, had ripped apart any sort of veil they could have hid behind. Miho couldn’t lie to herself, she was terrified. Her desires were out there in the open, right there to be mocked him if he wanted to. She waited expectantly for him to react.

He said nothing, only reaching his hand out to touch her face. She shivered, afraid he’d laugh at her, afraid he’d tell her that she was disgusting. But he didn’t. He leaned in, his breath hot on her lips just before he closed the inch of space between them.

The kiss was slow and searching. Hesitant and cautious, despite how daring Miho had pretended to be.

Her heart felt fit to burst but it didn’t, somehow beating at that maddening rate. She released a sigh, her mouth opening up in an invitation. Madara didn’t rush it but he wasn’t messing around either. He bit at her lip, tugging gently as his teeth scraped against her own.

How had she been able to handle this with Izuna? How had she been able to stay _alive_? It was driving her insane, the feel of his hand on her wrist and the slow and agonizing way that he was kissing her. Then he deepened it, his hold on her tightening as his fingers slipped to touch the base of her neck. His tongue was there now, colliding with her own and it was too much. A low moan was drawn out of her.

He broke the kiss and until then she hadn’t realized how much she needed to breathe.

Miho was panting, struggling to catch her breath but he seemed unbothered. His mouth was soon at her throat and the table was shoved away. His knees hit hers and his hands were there hitching up the edge of her kimono. Then he was touching her legs, his fingers slipping over her thighs and stroking her like she was something precious to hold.

She couldn’t handle it, another moan left her and this time it was higher in tone and breathier. She was begging for something and she didn’t know what. Something, just something, _anything_ that could end her misery and release her from these feelings that were slowly consuming her.

“Madara-san,” Miho found herself saying right before she released a sharp gasp. He’d opened her kimono without her even noticing and he was kissing her collarbone now, one hand circling her waist and lifting her body to his. She moved to his touch easily, legs parting as she adjusted her weight on his lap.

She was straddling him and the next thing she knew, his fingers still stroking her bare thigh while his other hand kept her balanced. With a flexibility Miho hadn’t even known she had, she was leaning back and his mouth was traveling further down. Her fingers found themselves on his shoulders or in his hair. She was making noises, the sort she’d never before heard _anyone_ make, and she was trying so hard to be quiet.

Miho bit her lip but it did little to curb her voice.

Distantly she wondered if it had ever felt this way with Izuna. She couldn’t remember. All she had in that moment was his hands on her and his mouth trailing kisses down her sternum. Then his fingers trailed to the place she felt the hottest. The feeling only grew when he touched her and it left her gasping, shuddering and shaking as she snapped up to cling to him.

She blinked, amazed.

Miho had never felt like _that_ before, this she knew for a fact.

“You’re wet,” he muttered and she blinked, confused.

“I am?” she asked, unsure of what he meant until he lifted his fingers away for her to see. She immediately flushed, understanding filling her just as she felt something move against her thigh. She smiled, staring at him with a raised brow. “And you’re hard,” she pointed out to him, her lips capturing his once more before she took the initiative and connected the two of them together.

He groaned and she echoed him in a small, shaking voice. She couldn’t move even if she wanted. The pain was too much of a surprise for her and she weakly brought her arms around his neck, clinging to him with her face pressed into the base of his throat. To distract him, hoping that he wouldn’t move so soon, she began to kiss him like he had her.

Madara growled and his hands continued to explore her. He was giving her time, she realized, time to adjust even while he touched her to the point of her own distraction. She forgot the pain as he caressed her back, her arms and thighs. She was completely naked, he could see everything. Miho was more than surprised to find that she didn’t mind, not in the least.

She _wanted_ him to see everything, wanted him to look at her.

He did, his gaze taking in everything as his eyes trailed over her. First was where they were joined, sending a hitch in her throat as she saw it too, and next was her stomach. She’d always been a bit embarrassed of it but with him she didn’t feel it. His fingers were touching her there now, kneading into her soft flesh and making her forget that she had even been sensitive about it, making her forget why.

Then he was gazing at her chest, his hands going there too. Her breasts spilled into his palms, his thumbs playing with the flushed pink nubs. It extracted a particularly breathy moan from her as his gaze traveled upwards. His lips were back on her throat and they were trailing up to her jaw and then, just as he reached her mouth, he was moving.

The pain was gone entirely as he slowly laid her down on the tatami mats, her flushed flesh being greeted with the humid heat of a summertime evening. She felt sticky and breathless and her heart was pounding viciously in her chest as he began to move in her. His robes were falling away revealing his muscled torso and she had never seen anything so beautiful.

Scars appeared in so many places, it amazed her that anyone could have so much. She wanted to count them, to touch and kiss them all. Somehow though, her hands remained on his shoulders and her gaze was now on him, on his face as he watched her beneath him.

His eyes, normally so cool and composed, were hot on her, as if they were searing something into her like hot metal on skin. She didn’t know what it meant but she couldn’t say she disliked it. Instead, a strange feeling was building in her. It started in the pit of her stomach before it spread, making her toes curl up as she gasped against the feeling that suddenly engulfed her.

“Madara!” she cried, surprised by the force of it but he didn’t stop. Miho couldn’t think anymore, everything turned into a blur as he continued. It was building again, she realized belatedly as she moaned for him. His name on her lips seemed to spur him on even further and the sudden change in speed surprised her to the point that the feeling consuming her body returned full force. She gasped, her fingernails digging into his back with force as she squirmed beneath him.

Too much, too much.

There was just so _much_ and she couldn’t think.

Then he was slowing, his hot breath cascading over her as he panted. She’d never heard him so breathless. For a second she thought that it was the end but Madara had other ideas. He was moving in her, thrusting rhythmically and sure. It was different from the desperation of before. This was slow and burning, each move deliberate and certain.

Miho was no longer in control of her body as she shuddered in his hold, dazed. He was kissing her again and she was returning it enthusiastically, sighing against his lips. This time when the heat began to build up in her, she let it and savored each second she spent with him. She wondered if he felt like this, if this was good for him as it was for her.

She’d hate if it weren’t.

But then, surprising her with his force, he slammed into her and she was left stunned with the feeling, something in her bursting as her body was set abuzz with wave after wave of pleasure wrapping itself around her. She breathed out of a rush of air, hearing him groan in her ear as he shuddered above her. Miho blinked dazedly at him as he pulled out and laid besides her, pulling her against him with his hands protectively cupping her bottom.

Amazed at what had just occurred between the two of them, Miho settled herself into his arms and placed her chin on his chest. Her eyes landed on those scars of his again and she found her fingers reaching out to trace them. He shivered at her touch and she marveled over that, her eyes meeting his heavy lidded gaze.

He had such a beautiful face...

Unable to stop herself, she slowly moved to hover over him. She kept watching him as she leaned down and kissed his scars, trailing her lips over each one in her sight. In the back of her head she knew that she didn’t need to be doing this. She could have just hobbled up and left the room but here she was and there he was, trembling beneath her.

It was an euphoric feeling that settled into her chest.

“You asked if it bothered me if you weren’t a virgin,” he suddenly murmured and she could barely understand him. It was a struggle to remain clear headed, to even understand human speech when all she wanted to do was touch him.

“I did, ‘ttekisa” she mumbled, curious now where he was going with this.

“It does,” he answered, “because I hate sharing.”

“This,” she whispered, clearing her throat and trying to form the right sentence, “this is the first time for me.” Then she realized he wouldn’t be able to understand that. With a smile, she leaned in and whispered in his ear, “It’s the first time I’ve ever felt so good, ‘ttekisa.”

With that said, she leaned back down and drowsily found rest in his arms.

She never did see the smirk her words had caused.

**Remember The Fun**

She felt a little embarrassed. Okay, actually it was a lot embarrased.

Miho was still buzzing from had just happened despite the cold bath she had taken to clear her head. She could still feel him on her, like an imprint of his hands on her waist, his mouth on her chest. This had all put her in a rather good mood and for the first time in a while, she felt...satisfied.

And happy. Satisfied and happy.

But she was also about to meet up with a child and Miho couldn’t help but feel like anyone who saw her now would know something was different. Perhaps see how sore she was starting to become? She didn’t regret it exactly, perhaps the timing of it all, but she was a little concerned. What did it all _mean_ for her?

She had to blink the questions away, however, and become completely available for Midori. Instinctively she knew that whatever they were going to talk about wasn’t going to be light. It would require her to think, and think wisely.

Finally, she arrived at edge of the forest to find that she had already been beaten there. She paused upon seeing the raven haired girl but soldiered on ahead with her box of sweets. She felt a little bad about having been so caught up with Madara. She’d been planning to go shopping for the snacks but had instead ended up bringing what was intended to be a gift for Ryota.

Oh well, she could replace it tomorrow before she headed towards the school.

Right.

Miho took a deep breath and walked up to Midori who had already noticed her coming.

The girl gave her a glare, “You’re cutting it close.”

The Uzumaki winced. She was as bad as Hayami.

“Sorry,” Miho told her, flushing, “something unexpected came up.”

Midori watched her closely and with narrowed eyes. She was quiet for a moment before giving a shrug, “So what is it you wanted to show me?”

“There’s a reason it’s night,” Miho explained to her as she reached out a hand to the girl, placing it on her shoulder as she guided her. “It’s prettiest at this time, you know. I’ve always loved the moment the sun sets. On the island of my birth, the waters would look almost lighter than the sky which I always found a curious thing. You know, we have a certain sort of fish that glows there. I used to stay up all night watching them. It was much better than having nightmares, I think. Now, when I’m here and away from the waters that I long to see, I get to witness instead how everything is cast into a shadow, the mountains are so tall it’s almost as if we’re covered in a blanket. I don’t know why but I feel safer for it.”

Midori was silent as Miho talked and so talk she did.

First it was just about anything that came to mind but soon, as Miho neared the private garden that she’d been helping to cultivate, she suddenly recalled her promise.

“I used to constantly cry,” she said as she unlatched the gate door and swung it open. Midori wordlessly followed after her and the two of them settled themselves on a bench made out of stone. Art work had been etched into depicting a dragon’s head and a fierce looking lion. She’d loved it instantly at the market and had bought it right up.

Madara had been the one to lug it home though he hadn’t complained.

“Not surprised,” Midori said, bringing her out of her memories.

“Yes, though my parents were,” Miho said dryly, “and no one could understand it until my sister had the thought that it had to do with my health. Before her, they hadn’t a clue what was wrong with me. Well, correction, we _still_ don’t have a clue but it’s gotten better.”

“What do you mean?”

She gave the girl a sad smile, “I constantly cried because I was in constant pain. Just the simplest touch and it felt like my flesh was being tugged off of me or like a thousand needles were pricking my skin. I don’t know where the sensitivity came from but it was there and no one could comprehend it. Some thought I was pretending but I could never...” Miho swallowed, “My father couldn’t hold me and I was supposed to be dressed very slowly. Even worse,” she couldn’t help a soft chuckle, “I was so cold that I had to be dressed in three layers before I stopped shivering. It was a nightmare to keep me clothed.”

“And things are different now?” Midori asked, looking at her with new eyes.

Miho grinned, “Very.”

“What changed?”

“I don’t know, ‘ttekisa,” she lied, giving a shrug, “but I’m not going to question it. I’ve been able to touch people now. I can barely stop myself from giving you a hug right now, if I’m honest. It still surprises me when it doesn’t hurt. I suppose if I ever go back to Uzushio then they’ll accuse me of having pretended my entire life just to get out of classes. But, if anything, I used to pretend that I didn’t feel pain just to attend. I hated to be looked at as weak but I knew it was true what they were saying about me, about how I was a shame to my family. I tried to learn how to fight but it just never really worked out, especially with the kids refusing to spar with me. My sister would beat them up if they even so much as touched a hair.”

“Your family didn’t disown you?” Midori asked and she looked honestly curious.

Miho shook her head, “My father loves me, this I know. He may not have been the most involved parent but he did a lot for me. He got me music lessons, he bought me beautiful clothes to wear, had my hair adorned in the latest mainland fashions and had me attend many meetings in hopes that I’d meet a man I liked and get married. He wanted me to marry the richest man possible and so he would set up dates between me and daimyo. It was honestly mortifying being a girl of fifteen and being told I might marry a man twenty years my senior.”

“And now you’re marrying into the Uchiha clan, the richest shinobi clan,” Midori added the last part with narrowed eyes, “I thought it was a love match. That’s what all the girls are saying about you two.”

Miho flushed, not really prepared to think about anything concerning her sham of a betrothal. She swallowed before mustering up a reply, “Financially I was fine on my own. I’m rather well known for my music. Even if I never married I’d be fine. Though,” she added thoughtfully, finger tapping on her chin, “he has helped me quite a bit with the school.”

“So is it?” Midori asked, her eyes sharp, “A love match?”

Distantly Miho wondered if the girl had a crush on him and that was what all of this was about.

She refocused on the girl, gazing in her eyes seriously as she reached out to hold her hands, “It is a love match. This marriage will help me save someone very dear to me and, if things all go to plan, everyone else too. But if you asked me if I love Madara-san then I will have to be honest, I don’t really know. And that’s a secret,” Miho added with a small smile, “will you help me keep it, ‘ttekisa?”

“You’re so confusing,” Midori suddenly said, completely ignoring the question, “I would have thought you hated me.”

Miho blinked, “Hate? Never. You were rather rude but honestly, I could have handled it better. You’re still growing up and though you make me feel young again, I am the adult out of us. Now, before I ask you another question, I want you to follow me.”

“Where?” Midori wondered, her eyes wide as Miho wordlessly pulled her to her feet and smiled a broad grin.

Leading her deeper into the garden, passing flower after flower, Miho took her to the large pond at the end. Kneeling by the water’s edge, Miho looked to see a mystified Midori copying her movements. Before them, the water glowed and within was a large form casting its own light into the world.

“Is that the fish you were talking about?” Midori said, open awe in her voice.

“Yes,” she replied, “I was feeling sick for home and I sent a letter to my father demanding that he send one back to me.”

“I miss my dad,” Midori suddenly said, catching them both by surprise.

“Oh, ‘ttekisa,” Miho whispered as a sudden understanding hit her.

_Have you ever felt loss?_

“He died two weeks ago,” Midori explained, her hands reaching out to touch the water’s surface even as she flinched at the ripples, “He was on a mission. His body...was eviscerated to the point of being unrecognizable. The only way they identified him was because of my scarf. I had sewn his name on it.”

Miho said nothing, too horrified to speak.

She knew, yes, she knew that this was a common enough tale. Missions were dangerous, everyone knew. It was why they trained so hard, why they’d spent most of their adolescence learning how to fight and never how to live. Miho had been lucky, she had been spared because of her health.

But others were not, and now the young girl before her looked so lost and so bitter.

She couldn’t help it, she pulled Midori into her arms and held on tightly. She seemed stunned at first but before long, she sank into the embrace and began to sob. Miho’s grip turned even fiercer as she kissed the top of her head, wanting to take it all away from her. No child should know such pain.

It filled her with such _fury_ and made it even more important, what she was doing with her life.

To unite the clans, to end the fighting and to change the world.

A promise she had shared with a boy when she was young and a promise she wanted to renew with the girl in her arms.

“I’m going to change it,” Miho vowed softly, “I’m going to change the world, you’ll see.”

Midori simply cried, giving no sign that she had even heard.

**Remember The Fun**

Kazunari was staring blankly at his daughter who was fidgeting with her nails quietly. She didn’t know why she was even doing this; she was roped into Hashirama’s dumb antics once again. Though calling them “antics” this time was a little too lax. Insanity was more likely.

“Is he an idiot?” he finally asked after a long silence, which was really an understatement.

“You only realize this now?” Mito snapped back, clearly agitated.

“But I don’t...but no one has ever successfully captured a bijuu,” Kazunari said, shaking his head in disbelief, “and now he thinks he can catch them all?”

“It’s insane, yes,” Mito admitted easily but begrudgingly had to add, “but it’s our best bet and we won’t be alone.”

“Why? You, of all people, should know that uniting the clans could never happen. There’s just too much fighting, too much anger and hatred. Can you even imagine the Uchiha and the Senju clan meeting for peace? It just, it just doesn’t happen. The desire to be the best is just too strong.”

“Miho believes it can,” Mito murmured back quietly, “In fact, with her, it _can_ . She’s marrying the head of the clan, if you could remember, and who exactly is our clan allied to? The Senju. Besides,” Mito muttered, shaking her head with a bemused smile, “Hashirama used to be friends with that Madara fellow. _Friends_ , you know? I think that’s a good sign, if you needed any, that is.”

Kazunari shook his head, “I have been the head of this clan for a very long time and many times people have strived for peace in this land. Sometimes there are breaks in the fighting but it never lasts long.”

“Miho and Hashirama have a dream,” Mito told him, meeting his gaze full on, “they don’t just want a truce between the clans. They want to form a village, a place for the shinobi clans to live in peace, for children to live long enough to _grow up_. You have to know how important that is.”

“We have never sent children to fight our battles,” Kazunari insisted stubbornly.

“But others have!” Mito shouted back, “Other clans do it all the time as they struggle to remain alive, and the small ones suffer even more when the big ones get involved. Can’t you see how important it is for all of us? For survival’s sake? No, not even that. For the sake of happiness, the chance of giving it to the next generation. Things are bad, Tou-san, and they’ll only get worse if we don’t do this.”

“What is it that you want from me, Mito?” he asked, stunned by her words, “This island is our home. We’ve never gotten seriously involved in mainland affairs before. The clan would rebel if I did.”

“A true leader leads,” she said to him, “and all I need from you is your skills as a dignitary. Talk to the daimyos, reach out for their support, tell them we’re forming a superpower or something, a place hidden in the leaves that they’ll soon be able to reach out to for in each and any of their concerns. Sell to them this dream of ours.”

Then, leaving him unable to speak back to her, she stood and headed towards the door.

She paused before it and turned back to meet his gaze, “Tou-san, I know you want peace. It’s the reason why we’ve never gotten involved, isn’t it? But it isn’t true peace here on this island as the others suffer and die. This, you can feel it. _I_ can feel it, ‘ttebasa.”

Then she stepped out, leaving him—for the first time in his life—wordless.

**Remember The Fun**

Ryota had been sleeping, silent as ever in his futon, the one that laid closest to the door as his father continued to squirm like always. His father had never been a shinobi, had never had the health to go through with it despite the power and strength his fallen mother had been able to obtain through her awakened sharingan. It was a wonder in and of itself that Ryota had even been born at all but it had been love, he’d been told, that had lead his mother and father getting together. That seemed to hold up. After all, she died on his fifth birthday and ever since then, it had never been the same.

Always on that day his father would be unable to sleep, and unable to stay still. When he had been growing up, Ryota had severe problems with his insomnia, most likely thanks to that. But now, after years of training his body, he could fall asleep on command and wake at the slightest noise and shift in presence around him.

Which meant, as he heard footsteps racing around the outside of the house, Ryota opened his eyes and silently lifted his blanket. Making as little sound as possible, the sixteen year old stood up and, with a look directed at his barely sleeping father, Ryota stepped out.

“Ryota-sensei!” a voice cried out, making him swerve around to look at the owner of it. Hirohito ran up to him, eyes filled with fear and blood coating his cheeks from what looked like two hands. Ryota felt his hackles rise instantly as he moved as quickly as he could to the small boy.

“What is it? What happened? Where’s your mother?” Ryota asked, dipping to meet his eyes as his hands went out to inspect the six year old’s limbs for wounds.

“Nat me, n-not me,” Hirohito managed out, slipping up in his speech before he swallowed, “Kaa-chan is hurt! Someone came into the room and hurt her!”

Ryota felt his blood run cold before he nodded, rising up before breaking into a job. He paid little attention to the strain on his leg, the way it pulled his still tender skin taut and how weak it was. Nearly every second he felt like they would give out on him but he had to keep moving, he had to hope his other leg was strong enough to get him there in time.

It felt like too much time was passing as he picked up the pace, huffing out in agitation as the muscles protested, getting to the point that it was painful. But then, as he ran the distance between where he knew Izumi’s new home to be, Ryota found himself moving faster as the sight of it opened up before him. It was also then that he could hear her screams.

He waited not even a second, taking the chance to shunshin to the door, grunting against the agonizing pain that shot up his leg before he opened the door and, with mere seconds to take note of the situation, Ryota rushed against the intruder. Taking him down to the floor, Ryota used his advantage to kill. Placing his hands on the robed man’s throat, he squeezed as hard as he could, grunting just barely so before willing enough strength into his arms to snap the intruder’s neck.

It was only then, as he heard the snap, that he realized that he could have let the man live for intel gathering. The red he hadn’t even noticed filling his eyesight dissipated before the energy in him drained entirely from his body. Ryota struggled to rise off the intruder’s torso before stumbling over to the wide-eyed Izumi.

“Y-You just killed him, didn’t you?” she asked, her voice shaking, one of her hands pressed to the side of her throat while the other clutched at her side.

Ryota said nothing as he slowly pulled back the fingers on her neck, saying nothing as he moved next to her torso. The cuts were thin on her throat, not life threatening, but the one on her stomach concerned him, looking to be a jagged cut across her torso, blood drenching her clothes as the scent of it filled the air.

“I need to get you to the doctor immediately,” Ryota said, thinking of all the available iryo-nins that were at the compound. He could only think of Kido, the one that had healed his legs but he knew that at this hour, the iryo-nin would talk his ear off for bringing a non-clan member over at such an time.

“First, my son...!” Izumi trailed off, her eyes filled both with pain and worry.

“He’s fine,” Ryota murmured, lifting her legs as he gathered her up into his arms, pulling her in as she visibly winced, “You’ll be fine. Don’t speak.”

Eyes still wide, Izumi nodded slowly and said nothing more.

**Remember The Fun**

Ryota had been right about Kido, who gave him a look of pure disgust before shuffling out of her bed to tend to Izumi’s wounds. It took near an hour to get her completely out of the woods, and by then Hirohito, led by Ryota’s dad, had come to see them. Almost instantly Hirohito had begun to cry upon seeing his mother, so pale and so still with her skin cut open and clothes removed. Even Ryota felt sick just looking at her, even as he dutifully helped Kido clean and close the wounds.

Soon, as morning encroached, Kido looked up with a sigh and a tired smile, “I’m gonna kill you myself, brat, next time you bring me a patient like this.”

Ryota merely smiled back in response, too tired to protest or even to joke around. Instead, he helped dress the wounds of Izumi, feeling a sense of calm at seeing her chest rise and fall so smoothly.

“She’ll have to remain under observation after losing so much blood,” Kido explained, absentmindedly covering Izumi with a blanket before looking up to meet his gaze, “I did check for internal bleeding and closed the breaks as best as I could but they’ll be weak so she’ll have to be very careful. I suggest bed rest for about a week. But we also don’t want her to gain any bed sores from her rest so periodically walking should help with that and help hasten her recovery.”

“So she’ll be fine?” Hirohito asked, voice soft and just above a croak as he peered from around Ryota’s back.

Kido smiled sweetly at the kid, sending a shiver up Ryota’s spine as he balked at the idea of her being anything like the word sweet, “Yes, she’ll make it through just fine.”

Hirohito grinned back, eyes red from crying. He laughed then and it banished a ball of anxiety in Ryota’s stomach. He hadn’t even realized it was there but now, seeing the two of them safe, he relaxed a little bit more.

**Remember The Fun**

Miho came to see them early in the morning, shocked and dismayed about learning what had happened.

“Who would step onto Uchiha clan grounds to do something like this?” she demanded to know though Ryota’s first question was to know why. Why Izumi? What had she ever done wrong in her life that caused an attempt on her life?

Ryota tried to refocus on the redhead though, finding it surprisingly difficult to. His eyes were mostly on Izumi’s face and Hirohito, who slept beside his mother. It made for an oddly adorable sight and Ryota could almost imagine having a kid of his own.

Not that he was ready for such a thing. He felt too much like a kid himself.

Miho was suddenly beside him, laughing to herself and he looked at her with a frown, “What is it?”

“You have terrible luck with women,” she said with a pitying smile.

He grimaced and cringed at the truth of her words but felt like snapping back, “What about you then? How good is your luck with men?”

She looked thoughtful, turning her head to the side before she answered, a suddenly bright smile forming on her face, “Very bad, all things considered. I used to have a terribly big crush on this guy who’s in love with my sister. Then this whole mess with the Uchiha boys,” she shook her head, clearly amused, “it’s like some sort of kabuki drama.”

“You seem in a good mood though,” Ryota said, surprised by it and he was a little bit happier for the fact. It was nice knowing that she wasn’t hurting, that she at least could smile and mean it so genuinely.

“Well, last night,” she started and he shifted uncomfortably, not exactly liking where this was going, “I got close to this cute girl, Midori-chan, if you know her. We’re really bonding, if you can believe it, and I’m thinking about adopting her.”

“Seriously?” Ryota asked after exhaling a sigh of relief, recalling the bratty girl who had once nearly bit his thumb off when he’d gone in to ruffle her hair.

“Not serious about the adoption, think she’d slap me if she heard me say that, but I don’t know,” Miho’s smile turned soft and almost a little sad. It reminded him of the time in the snow, when she had said goodbye to him. The ache in his chest grew and was stunned to find it was still there.

He supposed that one simply couldn’t get over a girl like Miho Uzumaki.

“It was the first time that I’ve felt truly at home here, _needed_ ,” she finally said after a pause, unaware of the role she played in his thoughts. “Maybe it also has something to do with Madara-san too. We, um, well, we had sex for the first time.”

“W-What?” he squawked out, cheeks flushing red as he regarded her with new eyes. _Why is she telling me this, why is she tormenting me this way. I thought she_ liked _me!_ Well, not a romantic like, but a fondness inasmuch as she would have for a friend.

Miho’s nose flared cutely as she released a huff of agitated air, “Not so loud.”

“I-I know,” he cast a wary look towards the woman and kid sleeping not even a few feet away, “But why are you telling me this?”

It was her turn to blush as she shifted uncomfortably and a bit shyly, “I don’t have anyone to talk to about this sort of thing and you’re the closest thing I’ve got to a best friend here. Otherwise I would have talked to my sister but she’s sort of gone. Recently, I thought, well, I thought you’ve gotten over me.”

As if _that_ was reason enough to suddenly admit out loud to something like that. He’d always thought Miho was more demure than that. Sort of like the image the girls in his clan strived to become for their husbands. But it was more like she was genuinely perfect, that perversions never so much as crossed her mind. Even in that moment, she looked so innocent and pure. He thought that was who she was thoroughly. But this was different, this was surprising.

And he found that he liked this side of her, just a little bit more than he expected himself to.

Still somewhat peeved that Miho could be so cruel, even if he had a certain fondness for it, he frowned, “But still, in a place like this. There’s a _child_ around.”

Miho peered over his shoulder, “He’s sleeping.”

Ryota shook his head, amazed that he had never noticed how bold the redhead was.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he said decidedly, “before we have to leave for work.”

“Okay,” she agreed but narrowed her eyes at him, “but are you going to be prepared for what I’m about to tell you?”

He shook his head again, continuing to be amazed as he stood and stretched, “Come on, you can talk on the way.”

“Alright but well, before I get into the other details, I do have something to admit to you,” Miho said and she sighed, casting a doubtful look in his direction as the two of them walked, “I don’t like lying to friends so I’m not going to anymore. My engagement with Madara-san is a, well, not really a lie, but it’s not a love match and it may not entirely go through. Otherwise, the marriage would have happened already.”

“What do you mean?” Ryota asked, honestly stunned. He’d seen the way she had looked at his clan head, had felt the hot jealousy in his gut when she’d forgotten his existence entirely for the face of another man. Her eyes had never looked so earnest with him as they did when she was around Madara and he had the feeling she didn’t even notice that she rushed to fix her hair anytime the Uchiha grew near. But he supposed that was something for her to work out on her own. For now, he was just really confused.

“It’s hard to explain but least complicated version is that I’ve given myself to him for a year while my sister and the head of the Senju clan prove a point for me. I made a deal with him, you see, and I decided to stay with him because of his brother, Izuna-san. I’m, um, worried about his health and wanted to stick close by.”

Ryota’s brows furrowed, “This point?”

“You have to understand, Ryota-kun,” she said softly, stopping in her tracks as she faced him, a determined glint in her eyes, “I have a dream and I’m going to make it into a reality. A promise that I have to fulfill.”

“What is it?” he asked, trying not to sound too impatient.

“I’m going to help in uniting the shinobi clans and fix the mistakes that could have been.”

 _Can you make any more sense,_ he thought but didn’t say.

He focused on the part he could understand and had to say he wasn’t very surprised. Miho was just that idealistic. First was her school for kids too poor to afford it and now it was this, uniting the clans and making everyone happy. He could tell she meant it too.

She honestly wanted the clans to throw away their differences and come together. He felt tired just thinking about it, wondering how she could ever have so much energy to do something that required so much of herself.

“You’re really something,” he said to her and meant it, “I’ll be rooting for you.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, beaming at him before her expression into a frown, “but back to the other problem, the one with Madara-san. He’s suddenly acting weird around me and I don’t get it. I mean, when we, you know, it was _amazing_ and now he’s putting distance between us that wasn’t there before and making it all awkward.”

“What do you mean by distance, like what is he doing?” Ryota asked, genuinely confused. If he had ever been lucky enough to be with Miho, he would never spend his time avoiding her. She’d have a hard time keeping him away.

“We usually eat our meals together,” she explained, “and he wasn’t there for breakfast. So I went to his room to check up on him and he wasn’t even _there_. I asked if anyone knew where he was and they said he went off to train. I have no clue where he trains and nobody would tell me! I’m so embarrassed.”

“What, why would you be embarrassed?” he asked, blinking wide eyes.

“Because,” she flushed, looking almost like she were about to cry, “what if, w-what if I was _bad_? What if I did something weird and I don’t even know it and now he thinks I’m disgusting?” Now she looked angry but the wetness on her lashes didn’t disappear.

“Okay, first,” Ryota started, marveling for a small second about the sort of situation he was in, “you are not disgusting, you could never be disgusting. Second, maybe he’s just honestly training? He’s a shinobi, the leader of an entire clan, after all. He has to stay in shape.”

Miho nodded, looking to deflate, “You’re right. I don’t know why I’m freaking out about this. I shouldn’t even care but I do and I hate it cause Madara-san probably hates clingy girls.”

He didn’t have the heart in him to tell her that he _knew_ Madara didn’t like clingy girls. He’d seen enough of them be dumped over the years to know that for a fact. It didn’t sit right with him, the possibility that Miho could be another one.

“Do you love him?” Ryota asked, afraid to hear the answer and for reasons that surprised him. It wasn’t about him and the possibility that she could maybe one day love _him_ , it was about her and what could make her happy.

Maybe he really was over her now.

 _About time_.

Miho gazed at him, bewildered, “No? I don’t think I am. I know that I do like him as a person. He really does care about people and he’s never been mean to me. Though he does tease me...,” she trailed off, sighing, “I don’t want to be in love, that would be horrible, ‘ttekisa.”

“Why?”

She shifted, clearly uncomfortable and she mumbled out softly, “I used to love someone and they never noticed, ‘ttekisa. I used to trail after him like a lovesick puppy and I used to wait hours for him to arrive. He took me for granted. He’s _used_ me, ‘ttekisa. I don’t want that to happen again. I don’t want to hurt like that again...”

Ryota slipped his hand into hers, unsure why he did it but knowing he couldn’t handle that look of longing in her eyes.

“Do you still love him?” he asked, gently.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, shaking her head, “It all kind of confuses me, ‘ttekisa.”

Ryota looked at the rising sun in the distance, feeling a heavy exhaustion deep in his bones as he struggled to keep up with the women in his life. Then, with a snort, he looked at Miho who looked back at him curiously.

“Maybe he’s just getting old?” Ryota suggested, “He’s terrified of your youth.”

Miho laughed, her eyes brightening alongside the sun that rose up higher in the sky. Normally he would have never said something like that about the man who lead his family clan but for her it was worth it.

She snorted as she caught her breath as she looked back at Ryota.

“Maybe,” she agreed before she grew thoughtful, “He’s not even _old_ , he’s not even thirty yet, ‘ttekisa. That’s two years away. Or, one? Ugh, I can’t even remember his _age_.”

“Neither can I,” Ryota admitted and it brought another smile to her face.

She regarded him gently then, “Sorry, ‘ttekisa, for springing all of this on you. Especially with all that happened last night, hardly seemed important in comparison.”

“It takes my mind off things,” Ryota told her with a smile of her own though his was more weary.

“You should get some rest,” Miho ordered inasmuch as she could with her soft tone of voice, “and I’ll see you again when I come home.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, not wanting to fight his exhaustion now, “see you soon then.”

“Bye now,” she said, her smile growing, “and thank you.”

**Remember The Fun**

Madara was confused.

He was rarely confused but he was confused and it made him a more than a little uncomfortable.

It was almost instinctive to go there, to his private training field. He rarely went there alone, always preferring to have someone to spar with him. He liked real combat, to feel the rush of his power in his body as he moved in the dance he’d been taught the steps to when he was a very young child. Now it was all second nature.

He didn’t have to think to know how to take out an opponent, didn’t have to be bothered by emotion as he drove an enemy to beg for misery. He’d killed many like that, dispassionate in his deliverance of death. He charged battles against his enemies as cooly as he was expected to. Nothing got under his skin, nothing surprised him.

But that, her, what they had done.

 _That_ surprised him.

He still couldn’t erase her scent from his memory. It clung there to him, indescribable even as he struggled to recall what it reminded him of. Not a flower but a fruit, something from the tropics, something that brought to the mind the image of the sea and life. There was a name for what he was thinking of but he couldn’t recall even as he could hear in perfect detail the way she had cried out for him as she writhed beneath his weight.

Frustrated, Madara threw his kunai with a ruthless force one by one. Each time they hit, the wood splintered and the blade was embedded deeply into the tree. It reminded him of her hands, how they had been marred by broken chopsticks and how she had clawed at his back so desperately. They still stung, a sharp reminder about what had happened.

He didn’t regret it but he was confused. He hated being confused, Madara decided. He could never quite make up his mind about what to do and it made him feel young. Too young.

He wanted her again, this he knew for a fact. But he didn’t know what it meant and why it had to mean anything at all.

Madara suddenly recalled what his brother had once told him.

_She is ultimately different from us. While we fight and drench our hands in blood, hers are pure white and innocent._

_Not so bloodless_ , he decided, recalling the nicks on her palms that had been covered with small, barely noticeable scars, _and not so innocent either._

She was driving him insane, he realized the longer his mind refused to stray, and he loathed the power she had over him. He’d never even thought twice about it as he’d undressed her and kissed her body till he’d had his fill. Though now he had to admit that it wasn’t enough, not yet. He’d wanted it to happen just as much as she did, had been thinking about it days before it happened.

Had teased her for a reason, had watched her reactions for a reason. It had been his seduction, if only for when it amused him. But it hadn’t been, not really. It had been her all along with her thoughtful words, her earnest love for everyone but herself. She’d said many things that had taken him by surprise, had offered new ways to look at the world. Had made him pause for just a few seconds in thought of what she had meant.

He thought he knew her, thought he had her figured out.

Never did he think she’d be the one to initiate it all with her bold words and the smile that had stunned even him. _Fun_ , she’d called it.

He threw his last kunai and it hit the tree which a sharp _thwunk!_

Madara wondered what she would do next, if she would avoid him with that flustered expression of hers. Or would she perhaps come to him with a new hunger in her eyes?

 _Never felt so good_ , she’d said.

He couldn’t help but smile at that.

 **Remember The Fun** **– End**

 Hello, normally I wouldn't have a note within the chapter itself but as I'm currently revising this story and new content won't be added for a while, I'm adding to the end of this story a teaser scene for the next chapter. For more information, check out the story on FanFiction.

**Teaser Scene**

“You weren’t avoiding me, were you?” Miho asked as soon as she saw Madara in his room. She hadn’t even bothered to announce herself, just rushed the door open just in case he decided to slip out. It wouldn’t stop him but she’d at least see for herself if he was  _ really _ avoiding her. His shoulders subtly tensed but she didn’t focus on that as she came into the room uninvited.

“No,” was all he said but he didn’t meet her eyes.

A small smile found its way on her lips at how odd he was behaving. It was so different from usual that she had to take pause before she sat down before him and the table covered in parchment pieces and scrolls. Running a clan couldn’t be easy but still, Madara looked confident despite the subtle signs that showed more of the truth. She had to think, what exactly was it like to be the matriarch of an entire clan? She knew easily what it was like to be the daughter of one but she and her sister had never been pressured to take over after their father.

Miho shook her head inwardly of that line of thinking as she tried to read more into his body language and slightly slumped posture. Hayami would have a fun time correcting him with that sharp thin stick of hers. Knowing that woman, she wouldn’t even be  _ afraid _ of him.

She wasn’t afraid of him, couldn’t remember ever being so. Perhaps when she was kidnapped but even then...

Madara shifted under her gaze and she blinked. She doubted he wasn’t aware of what he was doing. A shinobi like him was far too aware of himself to let such things out in the open but she had the feeling he had a reason to do it. Like he couldn’t bring himself to speak honestly and so instead he showed it through his face and posture.

It made him sort of...cute?

“Good,” she said, oddly pleased, “I was worried that things would be weird.”

“Why would it?” he asked, one ink black brow raised above the other in the smallest fraction possible.

Miho titled her head to the side, a bit confused now that she thought about it, “It’s different? Maybe it’s the whole betrothal between us but it felt different than it did with, well, you know who.”

It felt too weird to say Izuna’s name now, especially in front of his brother. If Miho had known such a thing was possible, that it could happen between her and Madara, well, she doubted she would have ever dared sleep with Izuna. Still, it didn’t change the fact that Miho cared about him. She actually—and this stunned her—cared about both of them.

But the way she felt about Madara was somehow different and she had no idea in what way. Were they closer? She doubted it; she didn’t know the Uchiha clan head nearly as well as she did Izuna. They at least had conversations that actually caught her interest. Though, in many ways, she thought that Madara perhaps knew  _ her _ better.

He had been the one to change her world after all.

“Are you always so honest, Sakura?” he asked, his voice surprisingly soft despite his gruff tone. Miho blinked and then frowned.

“I try to be,” she answered, but her frown only deepened, “why do you call me that?”

“Do you hate it?” he wondered and he looked honestly curious.

“N-not exactly,” she mumbled, shaking her head, “but it’s the name of a girl in the future. It’s a little confusing and I don’t really know how it relates to me.”

Miho stared at him, willing him to answer her and he stared back. He could have won any battle of wills between the two of them, could have used his eyes to destroy her if he wanted. But he didn’t, he just sighed though his gaze never left hers.

Then there was a pause and the air thickened. Her face heated and she had no idea why but she wanted to look away to hide it. She didn’t though, and she remained silent.

“You reminded me of them,” he said, finally and after a long silence between them.

“Why?” she asked, confused as she leaned forward, honestly curious.

He was quiet but with a sly quirk of his lips, she recognized he was smiling at her. In bemusement. He was  _ smiling _ at her and suddenly there was a flash of something close to heat in her chest. She tried not to show it but she was sure she was blushing even more than  _ before _ .

“Because you came in the spring,” he said, “and the first time I saw you, you had a stray petals in your hair. It seemed to suit you, I thought, and I still think it does. Sakura are rather beautiful in the end.”

“So you think I’m beautiful?” she wondered out loud, blinking her surprise.

He snorted, “Doesn’t everyone?”

She stared at him, unsure if he was joking with her or not. Miho squinted at him slightly, leaning in just a bit as she placed her hands to table in front of her. For the oddest reason, she wanted to stop talking and pretty much attack him though at the same time she recognized it as being the wrong time—though probably a better place than last time. She flushed just thinking about it, blinking as she brushed her hair behind her ear. Miho licked her lips and wondered why her body suddenly felt too hot.

She blinked, cleared her throat, and met his darkened gaze, “You could call me something different, y’know? Something that’s...”

“Migoto.”

Miho stopped fidgeting immediately and stared at him. Then, as the word settled in, she flushed deeply and felt herself shaking her head in utter bewilderment, “Migoto?”

“It fits,” he said, his tone musing as he gave her a crooked smile. She forced herself to look away, her face suddenly heating up to an unbearable point. She felt more then saw, as he shifted where he sat. Seconds later, there was a light touch against her cheek, feeling cool against her skin. Without intending for it, she sucked in her breath and met his gaze, feeling the heat of it as his dark eyes bored into her own.

“Madara,” she breathed softly, her eyes searching his own for something...

She didn’t know what she was looking for but it became silly to think about the very second he was leaning forward, his lips meeting hers.

His fingers slipped up behind her ears, curling into her hair and pulling her even closer to him. Absentmindedly, she felt the table shift out of the way, most likely by his knees, but she was far more interested in the way she was sliding towards him. He pulled away suddenly and she made a sound of dissatisfaction the moment his warm lips left hers, attempting to pull him back in. It was only to be quelled the moment his mouth went to her neck, leaving her to shiver as waves of heat went up her back. Her skin was buzzing everywhere he touched, leaving a trail of electric heat across her shoulders as he worked on pulling her kimono off.

Miho breathed out in a soft moan, finding herself straddling him without even having been made aware. She blinked down at him, her fingers his surprisingly soft hair, marveling at the texture and the fact that it was happening  _ again _ .

She was just about to let herself be swept away in the pleasure, to fully let him do whatever it is he wanted to do. Miho was quite enthusiastic about it actually, but then a hint of a thought was enough to completely derail her as she snapped her eyes open and met a heavy lidded gaze that was just as hungry as she felt.

“W-We need...” she trailed off, trying to gather her thoughts. She licked her lips and attempted it again, pulling just slightly away from him, “We need to go stop Hashirama from being stupid.”

He blinked at her, and with his hands slipping to cup her waist, her looked at her with a quirked brow, “What do you mean?”

“I came here to talk to you about it,” among other things, “but I got a letter from my sister. He wants to hunt the bijuu.”

He laughed, the sound of it sending a hint of heat up her back but she frowned at him in the moment, looking at him as seriously as she could.

“He wants to use them as political objects,” she mumbled to him, “but he’s got the wrong idea about them. Everyone does.”

“He really is a dumbass, isn’t he?” Madara muttered in a tone that sounded a mix between exasperation and honest surprise. He smiled at Miho then and it wasn’t particularly happy, “Why should we stop him from getting himself killed?”

Miho shook her head at him, placing her palms to his shoulders as she shifted on his lap, distinctly aware of how close he was to her. The heat of his breath was heating her bared chest and if it weren’t for her chest bindings, she would have been just a bit embarrassed. As it was, she was oddly more comfortable to be so near to him, more protected.

Thoughtfully, she touched her nose to his and closed her eyes.

Quietly, she murmured to him, “If we get the bijuu on our side, if we can prove ourselves to them and get them to help us, don’t you think that it would prove something to the clans too? This isn’t really entirely just for Izuna-san, it’s for everyone. It’s for us, you and me. The future. The world.”

He sighed, was silent for a moment, before he looked up at met her gaze, “We should get married.”

She blinked then stared at him, perplexed.

His eyes narrowed at her, “If I just go to help and assist a man that is an enemy to my clan, this means we’re getting rid of the original one year deal. I want compensation for that.”

“But that means that I’ll...” she trailed off, her normally so poised form slumping forward as her shoulders caved in, her fingers slipping to the sides of his waist, her eyes on his, “that means I’ll be the matriarch of your clan. I’ll have to give up the school, I’ll have to...” she frowned at him, “this means that I’ll have to quit my music so that I...”

“Weren’t you prepared to lose it all already?” he asked and she nodded stiffly.

“Just didn’t expect this from you,” she mumbled, not exactly feeling surprised or sad, almost more confused than anything else as she looked at him seriously, “This engagement was supposed to be a facade. I haven’t been taking the classes your clan elders want me to, I’ve been too busy. I’m not exactly the perfect name for a match either. The Uzumaki are allies to the Senju clan. They wanted you to marry an Uchiha girl too.”

“I have a feeling you wouldn’t need those classes,” he told her in a wry tone, an ink black brow lifted, “You were raised to become the wife of a Daimyo, I don’t think the matriarch of a clan is far from that.”

Hesitantly, she nodded, “But...are you sure?”

He gave her a look, “The answer to that is obvious.”

Well, okay then.

“Fine,” she said with a firm nod, “Now shut up and kiss me.”

this scene is subject to change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O-o-okaaay, you know who surprised me with this chapter? (Myself) Madara! And Miho! That bane of my existence surprised me just as much as Miho did, they like tag teamed me. Totally not in the plan man but it happened and I’m leaving it. I had way too much fun writing this chapter, to the point that it’s somehow my favorite (so far) but also it is something I am equal parts embarrassed and in awe of. I don’t know. I’m confused. Madara confuses me. Damn enigma.
> 
> Anyways, I’m back!
> 
> I’m still like, uh, is this a good idea for MadaMiho to have JUmPEd so far but whatever, I say. Madara appreciates a beautiful girl when he sees one and Miho is like fuck yeah, sex. I will clarify, they aren’t in love yet! Also, you can laugh if you want, my attempts at smut can be p-r-e-t-t-y dang funny. I’m personally asexual so this was fucking weird. For those of you who like that stuff, I suppose it’s a treat for the long wait. For the people that don’t, well, other scenes will not be so...graphic.
> 
> P.S. Hashirama is Ash Ketchum, do you see??? Catch all dem bijuu, bb, you go be the best that no one ever was.
> 
> P.P.S I’m thinking that this chapter will be changed like the whole Izuna thing will eventually be, like this divergence will exist on the AO3 mirror (kind of like an alternate reality ooo) but before I decide on that, thoughts and feedback will be really appreciated.


End file.
